


Flight of the Valkyrie

by redwarmshadow



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Magic, Multi, Politics, Psychological Drama, Slow Burn, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redwarmshadow/pseuds/redwarmshadow
Summary: Monster. Queen. Hero. All labels Valkyrie has identified with, in her life. All facets of someone she doesn't completely know.When the walls between realities break, this lost heroine ends up in a new world. One in dire need of a hero willing to help.Can she find her own place in this strange world? Or will she be swallowed by the forces that plot it's undoing?
Comments: 9
Kudos: 48





	1. New for her. Faded for them

**Chapter 1: All new for her. Faded for them.**

Ciara still remembered how it felt. How could she ever forget it? It was seared in her memory by fire, by pain, and the kind of alien strangeness that only powers could produce.

The loneliness, the rejection, the judgment of not only her allies but also her enemies, the constant _need_ to just do more mission, the frustration… all those things she kept under wraps boiled over and mixed themselves with the source of her powers, with the product being something far closer to the alien nature of her powers

 _The Keeper of the Dead_ , Ciara thought. _The one that collects_. Her power had always been about taking from others. Her weapons and companions, all lives stolen. It was the reason why she had been so feared, even among her fellow heroes. 

How utterly and suitably ironic she ended up being a slave of her power, just like they had been of her.

Her passenger had been in complete control while Ciara, the mortal, just watched, her mind between reality and dream. Between the carnage that was the world of the outside and the crystalline reality of the passengers she used to call faeries.

Her vision was hazy and every thought was like she was swimming in thick tar, but she remembered enough to know her comrades had succeeded and how she had helped with that. She had taken control in the end. Fought the negative feelings and the unrelenting sensation of powerlessness to take command of the alien construct that was her body. But after that… everything had gone black, and even the crystalline dreams had stopped.

Where was she?

Ciara looked around, studying her surroundings. Was she still in the realm of crystals and dreams? Or was she stuck somewhere else?

The first thing that struck her was how...odd the geography was. The sky was a deep green with rocks randomly floating around, sometimes connected to other floating rocks by what seemed to be bridges or ropes. Uncanny in general, but there was more that stuck out to her. 

Ciara squinted her eyes.

Far away she could see something massive, its shape indistinct at this distance, a massive black blur hanging in the sky. However, the more she looked the clearer it became — an inverse of her second sight, where this time she had to struggle to look beyond the superficial to properly _see_. As she looked closer, the green clouds formed towers, each one taller than the other. She realized what she was seeing, and her eyes widened in surprise.

Was that a floating city in the distance? She tried to focus more, but the shape remained as it was. 

A Black Citadel floating in the void.

Besides that, the sky was almost empty. No birds or stars, only floating debris and that unsettling green that colored everything above. 

She looked down, searching for answers that the sky didn't seem to have, and noticed that the ground was decorated with glowing blue veins that had an ethereal glow around them. Some of them even came together to form tree-like structures of twisted glowing branches, which made the place even more unsettling. She doubted those things were plants, or even alive.

Familiar, in a way, to the red and black crystal back home. Familiar, but different.

Best not to touch them without proper equipment, or the proper power.

For all she could see she was on an island. To her left was a jagged black wall and to her right the green alien sky, full of floating rocks and a strange citadel in the distance. 

Without anyone around or a certain path forward, Ciara tried the first thing all Wardens were instructed to do in a situation like this — try to communicate.

"This is Valkyrie, status report," she said, touching her earbud to transmit. She’d had one when she’d gone to fight the Augur Titan, and whatever process had turned her back had brought it along as well. Maybe it was a fool's dream to hope it was still working but checking would cost nothing.

To her surprise, it _was_ transmitting but wasn't picking up a signal. Only static could be heard from the earbud. She was alone, then. Or at least the closest thing to it, considering who she was.

It wasn’t like it mattered much, anyway. She was used to loneliness. Even with her fellow heroes, she was an outsider, her flock and shades her only company, and even those interactions were more of a necessity than a genuine desire for companionship.

She guessed that Chevalier was a friend, as was Riley, and Legend was on that path with her too… but the times between crises were few and far in between. She blamed herself for always wanting to do more, despite the objections of everyone around her.

Yamada included. And didn't that say a lot, that she could consider her therapist her friend?

She usually managed to find something else to do, a crisis somewhere else that needed her attention. A distraction to keep her busy from thinking about it, but it seemed that now she could _not_ stop thinking about it.

Perhaps it was a side effect of the process that turned her into a monster? Maybe all of her frustrations boiled over so much that now she couldn't help but wear them on her sleeve?

Looking above once again, she considered flying, to try and maybe reach that black citadel that hung ominously in the sky. If it was a city then perhaps people could be living there. She could ask for help, or maybe guidance.

As she considered, doubt crept in, and she decided that maybe that was unwise. She didn't know where she was and the whole place felt...off. Unnatural. Like she was an intruder walking on hallowed ground, desecrating its purity by her mere presence. Maybe those rocks would move to crush her once she started moving upwards, or maybe creatures would come out from the sky to fight her in unrelenting droves. She couldn't know, and she needed more information about this place before she could take a more decisive course of action.

Chances were she was in a place heavily touched and shaped by powers. Maybe even created by them, like dimensional pockets or some Shaker effects that affected reality in extreme ways. Before the death of the Warrior, a power like this with such potency and depth to it would be extremely uncommon or unheard of. But, after his death, the rules that defined the powers were more loose and uncertain. Powers that were never meant to be used were released, and pieces of the Warrior were scattered across the multiverse, uncoordinated and chaotic. 

There was also the disturbing possibility she was in an alternate dimension. One warped by beings like the Warrior and the Scholar, or simply where the rules of physics were different from her own reality. All very dangerous possibilities that made flying in the open sky quite unappealing.

The ground under her feet seemed solid and safe for now, and that worked for Ciara at the moment. If the worst came to pass she could handle herself.

Alone and in unfamiliar, possibly hostile territory, Ciara came to the conclusion that just trying to explore this strange land was dangerous. If she couldn't get information from more mundane means, then the fantastical would have to do. She hoped — and was willing to admit she was considerably nervous and worried about it — that her previous state of being hadn’t morphed her powers to an unrecognizable form. That she could still wield it as she did before. She didn't know what she would do if she was stuck here, powerless and alone.

Would anyone even come for her? Would anyone even care for Ciara, the woman, if she went missing? Or would she be condemned for the thing she did when she was a monster once again? Or was Valkyrie all that mattered in their eyes? The hero, the living weapon. 

She didn't know, and it was better not to dwell on it while here.

Tension left her body once she felt her power, and how easy— practically intuitive — it was to summon one of her shades. She needed one that would give her some guidance in this uncertain situation and that, maybe, would help her to find someone else. Maybe others were stranded like her. Other capes that were forcibly turned and warped by their Agents, but without the same resources she possessed to find their way forward. She had to find them.

She called the one known as _Lightbringer, Guide to the Lost._ One of the first to wield that name and one of the heroes sent to capture or subdue her, back then, when she was known as Glaistig Uaine. She had broken the woman after two confrontations, taken what made her _her_ and bound it to herself. The end result was forming at her side.

The shadow took shape to her left, as if it was stepping in from another room, its feet still planted firmly on the ground. She was young, in her mid-twenties in look, if not demeanor, from what she could remember. She turned her head, exploring the odd landscape, her form indistinct, the lines between what used to be her flesh, and what used to be costume blurry and shifting. She was a caricature of what she used to be, her hood and her veil making her look like a nun or a missionary, if a child had decided to draw them.

Riley once called her shades ‘really pretty and lovely,’ but Ciara didn't know if she quite agreed with the statement anymore. It was a lonely existence.

"Can you sense anything?" Valkyrie asked her shadow. "A path forward, or someone else near?" 

Lightbringer wasn't the most powerful thinker she had, but she was one of the more reliable ones and, more importantly, she had been a hero. One quite popular, if Ciara remembered well. Her death had been considered a tragedy across the hero community, and it had intensified the hunt after her. 

The ghost had described her power as some sort of “radar” she had. Once she was in a new location she could release her power and map a whole area, seeing it as some sort of “painting” where she could feel energetic expressions, emotional spikes, and even lingering uses of powers, as long they were based on energy projection and utilization. Her range started at six hundred meters and could reach up to a mile, but she had to stand still in order to use her power or to expand it. Furthermore, any physical blow could interrupt her scanning, causing her heavy migraines that would leave her powerless for full minutes to hours, depending on the severity. 

Lightbringer was also among her candidates to return as a member of the Flock. Ciara had hoped that the woman would eventually agree to return. The world needed more genuine heroes, now more than ever.

The shadow shook her head. "Yes and no. This place, it feels _off_ to me. Like a constantly changing picture. Trying to map it is hard, like trying to paint with running water. It's pointless, I don't like it."

Valkyrie hummed and checked the skies once again. Narrowing her eyes, she noticed how the configuration of the rocks floating above her seemed a little bit _different_ now. She had been aware of how they seemed to be constantly changing, but she was surprised at how _fast_ this place seemed to configure itself into new shapes and proportions. Now, she thought she could distinguish faces and pieces of masonry in the stones. As if someone had plucked pieces of buildings and left them floating around.

 _'Moving around this place is going to be harder than I thought if not even powers can grasp it correctly,_ ' Valkyrie thought.

"Can you sense anything else? Or anyone?"

The Lightbringer turned her head and stared far away. When she spoke her voice seemed distant, almost dreamy. "There's... something out there. A surge of energy. I think someone is doing it."

"A cape?" Valkyrie asked. "Maybe the one that made this reality?"

The shade shook her head. "I don't think so. Or at least I don't know. This place is strange. My power can't grasp it well; you should seek someone else. Someone that deals more with the _abstract_ than I do."

The heroine noticed how the shade's words were more clipped and tired. She didn't like this place. Disturbing in a way; few things bothered her shadows.

"Can you point me where to go?" Valkyrie asked.

"Yes," the shadow answered. "Down that path, you'll find the surge of energy I have told you about."

 _Path_ ?' The heroine thought _. 'What path, there's no-.'_

She turned. Down to her left, the wall of black rock had opened, revealing jagged steps going down. At the sides of the entrance, two ornate braziers were positioned, distinctive in how they clashed with the aesthetic of the area. They were silver, and looked new, with indescribable symbols inscribed on them and an ethereal blue flame that shone inside of them. 

Valkyrie was certain that all those things weren’t there a minute ago. Worrying.

Was the master of this reality aware she was here? Or maybe that was just a quirk of this location?

Neither option relaxed her. She had to be ready for anything.

“Is it down there?" Valkyrie asked Lightbringer.

The shade nodded. "Be careful. I sense small things that flow and disappear. Some bigger than others, but yes, they're there. I think you'll notice what's causing the surge I'm feeling."

"Are they that distinctive?

"Maybe. Yes. I don't know. It's just that... it feels _solid_ compared to everything else here. Now, can I go back, please? I don't like it here. It's just so...wrong. "

Valkyrie banished the shade and turned towards the newly formed path, running through the shades and powers in her mind. Defenses and means of escape were a priority above offense right now.

The path was long and winding, and from it she could see the Black Citadel in all of its dark glory. Looking at it from afar she couldn't help but think of how Jamie would have thought that it was, in his own words, “fit for a Queen.” She chuckled a little at the memory, but her smile died when thinking about him inevitably led her to remember what he’d once told her. 

He had called her a Queen. A force of change in the world, with her own kingdom to rule. Unstoppable, with enough power to level cities, and make the entire world fear her.

He’d said those words as if they were good things. Things she could not deny about herself, and would always be a part of her. She didn't know if she agreed, and she was afraid that there would come a day when she thought he was _right_. The day she thought she was a Queen and the entire world her kingdom of the dead.

The woman before Valkyrie had thought like that, but she had been a monster — more Agent than human. The woman that she was now made great efforts to atone for all the actions and atrocities her previous self had committed and move on from that dark period of her life. 

_'But maybe,_ ' Valkyrie thought as she walked the steps to the recently made entrance. _'If I was truly the Queen, Jamie thought I was... I would, maybe, stop feeling like the scared and lonely white rabbit all the time.'_

  
  
  



	2. Ethereal Being.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara meets someone new.

**Chapter Two: Ethereal Being.**

Ciara always knew what she wanted to be as a child. 

She wanted to become a faerie.

And why wouldn't she? Faeries were wonderful, eternal beings from a magic land far, far away, where dull reality disappeared and was replaced with exciting fantasy and magic. Much better than her boring life. 

Her grandmother loved to tell her stories about the fae and their grandiosity, and Ciara looked forward for them every time. She didn't have many books at home, and her dad broke their small TV, so her grandmother's tales were one of the few things that a young Ciara could entertain herself with. 

But of all of them, the young child loved one story above all.

Her grandmother once told her about the changelings, and how they were faerie children that replaced human ones. The human children grew up in a land of imagination where they forgot about the human world and became fae. Meanwhile, the changelings were raised as humans, until one day they learned what they were and had a decision in front of them: go back to the magical land they were originally from and become Sidhe in fullness… or just stay in the human world.

Ciara, as a child, knew what she was going to say if she ever had the choice.

Her grandmother had told her how in the Valley of the Fae one never felt hunger or sadness. Every day was fun and games till the sun went down and the moon rose. Then it was time for the sweet sleep, where she would be placed in a bed of the finest silks, by a loving and kind mother, who would kiss her forehead and tenderly say to her: “I love you.”

Ciara wished every day she was a changeling, and that one day her  _ real _ parents would go get her, so they could leave together to a land full of fantasy and love.

Every day a little prayer. Every day a wish for someone to take her away from her dirty house, her awful life, and her mean parents that constantly yelled to her. 

But the fairies never came and her grandmother died, taking with her the bedtime stories and all the warmth of her life.

And leaving a young Ciara with her parents.

Her parents… Ciara never liked to think about her parents. They named her, and when Glaistig Uaine was born, that name — and the lonely girl that came with it — had to disappear so the Queen of the Faeries could rise. Most of the memories about them had been bitter and cold, anyway. There was no love lost between them, and Ciara had been happy that she could forget about them and move on once they were gone.

Or at least that’s what she said to herself.

In her mind, they were never  _ that  _ important. Only minor figures to what would become her grand tale. They played a small, but important part in the series of events that caused her to trigger, but that was it. Her grandmother was the one that mattered, not them. 

The day her beloved granny died was also the day the girl known as Ciara began her death knell, only to be reborn as something far more monstrous and powerful than anyone could have ever imagined.

But even though her previous self had died, the stories she’d been told had not only remained, but became stronger. So strong that they eventually replaced reality. 

This odd reality, with its lack of color and life, reminded her of that part of her life. The one she had struggled so much to bury. Of her grandmother’s fairy tales and of  _ Tir na nOg _ , the Otherworld and home of the gods, a land of beauty and pleasure, covered in lush greeneries and lovely apple trees. 

It was Heaven for anyone fortunate enough to be welcome inside. 

This place was the opposite. A dark mirror of the paradise her grandmother had told her. There was no greenery, no apple trees, or impossible beautiful faeries.

The place was sterile and dark, filled with that oppressive and nauseating green color that seemed to infect everything. The rocks, the ground, the sky — Nothing escaped it. 

It didn’t bother Valkyrie much, though. She had been in far worse places in her two years as the top rising heroine of the Wardens: parallel worlds in war, swamps filled with flesh-eating mutants and territory the Machine Army had annexed. But this place, it had…  _ something _ that unnerved her profoundly. 

There was no wind, no sound, no birds chirping, or any signs of life. Only her footsteps made any noise, which was one of the few things that assured her she was actually here and not back dreaming in the land of the red crystals. However, each step was not only reassurance but also condemnation. 

There was something at the end of this path, something  _ dangerous _ . She could feel it. She knew that she was giving too much trust to a mere “gut feeling,” but when one was close to the source of powers, gut feelings were always something more. 

And the decoration did nothing to assuage her fears. 

The path had led her to a long, wide hallway full of statues at the sides, each one of them representing a scene of human cruelty: A master punishing a slave with a whip, a horned man-beast bisecting a young girl, a thin creature with long limbs about to pounce on an unsuspecting child, a knight with a raised ax again screaming young woman with odd pointy ears. 

And so on. Each one of them was disturbingly realistic and vivid, as if they had been frozen mid-act and forever left here as decoration. Valkyrie did not dare to touch them for now. There was a lot she didn’t know and acting rashly would do her no good; besides, for all she knew they really  _ were  _ just creepily accurate statues.

Eventually, she reached a stone staircase that signaled the end of the hallway. Before climbing the steps, she looked back at the macabre exhibition and bit her lip. She had strong suspicions that those weren’t regular statues, but despite the temptation, she couldn’t stop and check with one of her shades. She was afraid that if she did so, she would learn that she was right, and feel even more guilty for moving on. She still didn’t know the rules of this reality and was experienced enough to know that being rash and overconfident helped no one. 

Better to be safe than sorry.

She climbed the steps, doing her best to put the hallway in the back of her mind.

It wasn’t a long trek, and what waited for her at the end gave her pause. A door. An ornate wood door with interlocking circles; such a thing clashed with the ambiance in such a manner that she couldn’t help but stare at it for a few brief moments in bemusement.

Wary of traps, she summoned the  _ Grey Seer _ and had him stare at the path ahead and the door. He looked at the floor — which she realized had morphed from the smooth black stone to gray and cracked in just one second, much to her consternation — to check for traps or hidden mechanisms, and then slowly advanced to the door as his power fed him answers. 

Once he reached the end of the path, he touched the door a few times and rapped knuckles against it. Then, after giving it a few more checks, he turned to her and gave her a thumbs up. 

Valkyrie nodded and dismissed him before carefully advancing. Even if the  _ Grey Seer _ was a specialist trap master, that didn't mean she could afford to let her guard down.

Reaching out, she grabbed the knob and twisted it. With some effort, the door creaking opened and she could see what was waiting for her inside.

Instead of the barren wasteland she’d left behind, she found herself in a rather well-furnished room. In front of her, a lovely red carpet extended from to the other side of the room. To her left side a fireplace roared, its fire frozen like it was a photograph of a fire instead of an actual one. She looked to the right and saw a ruined wall with several bookcases filled to the brim with books. 

Above, a yellow banner depicting a sun hung from the wood rafters. It was torn and visibly bloody, with drops of fresh blood falling to the floor and pooling on the carpet, giving the entire room a slightly macabre aesthetic. 

The heroine searched in the deep dark inside of her and toggled between multiple powers, focusing more on defense and evasion than offense.

Once she was satisfied with her selection, she took a step inside the room.

"Well,  _ well _ . What have we here?"

A sultry, feminine voice echoed in the room, and Ciara froze. Her hand went to her blade and her shades appeared at her side. 

_ Cindrallion. Pazuzu. Milgracias. Gavel. _

The small pool of blood bubbled and burned, and from it something arose with an explosion of air. The creature in front of her had the visage of a woman, but a monstrous one. Elaborate horns protruded from a bald, fiery head and extended to the sides of it. Her eyes were black, so profoundly dark that Valkyrie could have sworn she was seeing the Void. She had a slim figure, and her skin was grey under her almost bare top. Valkyrie would have called her topless if it wasn't for the golden necklace that was barely covering her breasts. Her legs were covered with extravagant cloth and Valkyrie could glimpse a tail peeking from her behind.

Such looks screamed one thing to Valkyrie. 

_ Demon. _

"Hmm, what's wrong, hon?" she said, her voice honey, sex and the promise of ecstasy. "Cat got your tongue? Or… did you see something you like?"

Her voice… Valkyrie, not even once in her life, had considered someone's voice sexy or alluring. Or even seen someone in a sexual or romantic light — who had time for it when the world was constantly in danger? — but this  _ thing _ , it somehow stirred feelings in her she didn't even think she had anymore.

That wasn't good.

One of her shades — _Pazuzu, The Fiery Demon_ — made fire bloom from his hands, while another one — _Cendrillon, the Bleeding Heart —_ quelled Valkyrie's emotions. The mental defense was a boon, allowing her to view the being in front of her with a colder eye.

"Who are you?" Valkyrie said. Her tone was firm and uncompromising.

The demoness chuckled, amused. "Nervous, aren't you? Understandable, my kind have that effect when it comes to interacting with you... creatures. You have nothing to fear though, I bear you no ill will."

"I said, 'tell me who you are’," Valkyrie repeated. The flame burned hotter and her energy wings extended themselves using a Shade from within; a tactic, Valkyrie had found, that worked well to intimidate someone.

The woman just tittered. "I see you're tense, but don't worry, I dislike fighting. Talking is  _ always _ more pleasurable for all parties involved."

“I won't repeat myself anymore,” Valkyrie said. 

With a smile, the woman started to caress her own body. "I see. Well, if it eases your soul to know what I am, then I'll tell you, creature." She slowly advanced, her steps seductive, until she was a few feet away from Valkyrie.

"I'm Desire," the demoness started. "Whatever you creatures of the living world want, I seek to provide. Lust, power, greed… they're under my domain."

"I'll give whatever you want — for a price, of course, but do not fear. My prices are fair and my wares, limitless. I can give unlimited riches, pleasures without comparison, or power beyond your wildest dreams.”

"So please, let’s sit and converse like civilized beings. And believe me, I'll make it worth your time.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tell me, what do you wish mortal?

**Chapter 3: Desire.**  
  
Ciara watched the creature in front of her, mind racing and heart pumping.  
  
_'Desire?'_ she thought. Did that mean she was in front of a projection? Or maybe a confused Case 53? Or— more disturbingly— another thing entirely? She didn't know where she was and that opened millions of possibilities and caused thousands of uncertainties.  
  
The only certain thing was that she didn't trust someone who called herself Desire and whose appearance resembled a christian demon.  
  
' _A succubus_ ,' Ciara thought. ' _A peddler of desires and destroyer of men. It fits the theme.'_  
  
One of the members of her Flock, Noah — _Carpenter of Heaven_ — had been deeply religious and, much to the irritation of other members of her team, quite willing to share his beliefs and knowledge of Christian lore, whether someone had asked him or not.  
  
"What's wrong, mortal?" Desire said, her hands caressing her breasts in a way she knew men would go mad for. "Does this form not convince you?"  
  
"Can you change forms?" Ciara questioned, wary. She was unsure if Desire was going to take the rejection of her deal well, and any information on her capabilities could be helpful if a fight broke out.  
  
Desire just smiled and in the blink of an eye, a man stood in her place. He had a chiseled bare chest, a dashing smile, and strong arms that made Ciara think of those male models in magazines.  
  
In short, he was gorgeous. The kind of man any woman would beg to be with and just looking at him made Ciara think things she had never about anyone else.  
  
Which meant she was once again being Mastered and that Cindralion’s defenses were faltering somehow.  
  
_'Master- Stranger protocols,'_ Ciara thought while renewing Cindralion's mental and emotional defense. 'It _seems I can't trust myself around this creature without protection. Another reason to not take this deal.'_  
  
"So, mortal? Do you enjoy what you're seeing?"  
  
"Whatever form you take is inconsequential to me. All I want is for you to answer my questions."  
  
Desire pouted. "Now, now. There must be something you desire, isn’t there?" His head tilted and he started to touch his body in a way that a lot of men and women would've considered seductive and alluring, but not Ciara. Not now. "You're a strange human. You're not a mage, are you? Or maybe you are? You're a strange creature. How”— the demon licked his lips, in a gesture he probably thought seductive —” fascinating. You're interesting, little thing."  
  
"I'm glad you find me fascinating," Ciara said, drily. "But whichever form you chose is of no concern of mine. The same goes for your deal. You have nothing that could interest me."  
  
"Nothing?" The man licked his lips again. "You're no common mortal or mage — that's obvious to me now. But… you _do_ want something. All of your kind does, human. You creatures of the flesh are so...basic in that."  
  
"I assure you," Ciara repeated as her shades prepared their powers. "I'm not interested in making a deal. I don't want anything and desire nothing you can give me."  
  
She was lying, of course. She did want something, she wanted to know where she was and how she could go home, but she obviously knew better than to trust someone so sinister looking who referred to humans as "mortals" or "creatures."  
  
Ciara couldn't help but wonder if this strategy had ever worked for them, but since Desire seemed to be a Master it could explain a lot about their confidence.  
  
" What a pitiful mortal," Desire said, purring. "You're beautiful in so many ways. So fascinating, so...shiny. You're different from all the others that come here."  
  
"I'm willing to share information with you if that is what you want," the heroine said, wary. "An exchange of sorts if you want. _Not_ a deal."  
  
The creature chuckled and it was something sinister and malicious. "Tempting, but _no_. For so long, for so long…" then they laughed, the sound a beautiful thing that somehow made Ciara unnerved, and caused the place to _resonate_ to senses the heroine didn't know she had.  
  
_'Unsurprising_ ,' Ciara thought, as her shades spread out and prepared her for the upcoming fight. It always came down to this when parahumans were involved. _'Violence is the only language we all understand, after all.'_  
  
"I have waited for someone like you all my existence," Desire said. "I have been feeding on dregs for so long that I almost couldn't resist when I sensed your power, but now… Now you'll be mine, mortal. Soon, I'll experience the material world through your eyes."  
  
_'So that confirms something_ ,' Ciara thought, filling the information away. _'I'm not in the "material world" and they're some sort of parasitic entity?' I still don't know enough.'_  
  
"Sadly my body is already in use," the heroine said drolly. Chevalier and other heroes always said banter could be fun from time to time. She had never been one for such things, even as a villain, but always better late than never.  
  
"Don't worry, I shall relieve you from that burden soon, mortal." Then, as if they’d been waiting for a signal she couldn't grasp, creatures woven from shadows emerged around her. Ciara counted six of them.  
  
"Unfortunate," Ciara just said. "But expected."  
  
Then, per her orders, Pazuzu sent a wave of pure flame at the incubus, who answered with a wave of pure cold that made the room around them _sing_ once again.  
  
_'So, they're also a cryokinetic? Good to know.'_  
  
"Subdue her," Desire commanded. At her words, the shades moved to her position all at once, but Valkyrie wasn't scared. She had faced worse and lived.  
  
As Pazuzu launched more and more flames towards the demon — who defended itself by pooling some sort of energy to act as a shield — Valkyrie commanded Cindrallion to attack. The elegant ghost dodged a swipe of a shade and then let out a scream that sounded like dozens of crying women.  
  
Valkyrie watched the wave of power erupt, making the monster reel back as If physically stunned.  
  
She didn't know if either the shades or Desire could feel emotions but she lost nothing trying, and Cindrallion's scream didn't affect emotion as much as it _imposed_ them on someone.  
  
There had been reports of how the ex-heroine had managed to almost drive a psychotic serial killer to suicide for how _regretful_ and _sad_ he felt for all of his actions, and how the effect had lasted _weeks_ till it vanished. That power use had gotten her in trouble with the local Protectorate at first, but the public was in love with Cindrallion — back then Cendrillon — for saving the mayor's little daughter. Her heroics gave her some leeway to avoid severe consequences, and her popularity gifted her some freedom when she chose to join the Denver Protectorate — who was in severe need of more anti- master capes back then and wanted to try and use Cindrallion against a emotion master and serial kidnapper that had roamed the city, hunting young women.  
  
The scream was specifically effective because even if someone— or something — didn't feel like she or regular people did, Valkyrie was sure the scream had to cause _something_ in them. She wasn't wrong.  
  
With the shade still stunned Valkyrie sent Gavel at the demon and ordered Pazuzu to send fire to the shades. At her side, Milgracias — _The Worshipper of the Unseen_ — kneeled and began to pray. A few seconds later Valkyrie began to feel a tingling in her skin that made it clear that the shade’s powers were working on her.  
  
Without missing a beat she lunged and cleaved with her blade at the midsection of the closest shade. The blade harmlessly passed through the body of the monster and Valkyrie — her body augmented — quickly dodged out of the way.  
  
At her left Pazuzu's flames consumed two shades and he backpedaled to avoid another. Gavel chased the demon around, getting hit with shards of ices and darkness but being completely unaffected by them. A shade tried to lunge at him from the side but he grabbed the shade monster by the head and threw him at the demon. A wall of ice formed between them and when the shade collided with it, both the wall and the shade, exploded and sent Desire tumbling down.  
  
Gavel laughed and went for a follow-up but Desire hissed and turned into a flock of iridescent butterflies that moved across all directions.  
  
Wherever they flew and landed one more enemy shadow arose from the ground— like bugs and misshapen things, their backs hunched and arms dragging.  
  
_'They can be harmed_ ,' Ciara thought as she avoided another attack. _'But maybe you need to attack a specific point, or all of it at the same time.  
  
At_ her will, Cindrallion disappeared and was replaced by the small and childish form of Wunderkind — _The_ _Merry Prodigy_ — who climbed to her back and started whispering secrets after watching the shade chasing Valkyrie.  
  
"They have a core," the ghost whispered. "Attack the head. Destroy it and they dissipate. They're not real, not really. They're just clumps of things that _could_ be, not sentient. They don't think, don't feel. Destroy them."  
  
Wunderkind was banished and Atalante — _the Silver Huntress_ — appeared, bow in hand.  
  
Valkyrie slashed the head of another shadow monster and Atalante stepped in. With a flicker of her hand, the huntress whispered to life an arrow made of pure silver energy, knocked it into her bow, but did not shoot it. She would need time to build up her power to the fullest.  
  
"Force them back!" Valkyrie shouted.  
  
Atalante could clear the way to the demon, but she needed time and space. Valkyrie and her ghosts could provide both with relative ease but she had to be wary. She still didn't know the full capabilities of these creatures and the possible backlash that their destruction could cause.  
  
"Subdue it," Valkyrie said to Gavel, pointing at Desire. "But be careful."  
  
Pazuzu threw another wall of fire at the demon and forced it back. With the creature occupied Valkyrie focused on the other enemies by the closest shade next to her. This time the blade managed to hit true and sent the creature reeling, enraged at being hit.  
  
It didn't matter anyway. Atalante was almost ready.  
  
Behind her the shadow of the heroine stood; in her ghostly hands was a bow and a silver arrow, so bright it hurt to look at. The huntress readied her weapon and aimed it at the head of a rapidly approaching shade and, once she was ready — something signaled by the particular brightness of the arrow and the _weight_ of it ─ she let go and the projectile struck true.  
  
_It’s time for a light show_ , Valkyrie thought as she commanded her shades to fall back on her. It was always a spectacle to see Atalante power at work. A Protectorate hero, she served faithfully until Gold Morning happened and she died in one of the ensuing fights against the Warrior. Ciara was there to collect and Atalante ended as one of her ghosts — one of her more useful ones when she needed to eliminate large crowds of enemies without concern for casualties.  
  
The arrow found its target on a shade's head and the creature started shining like a silver bonfire. From its corpse fiery silver lines emerged from the inside, zigzagging and moving in imposible angles until they found their targets in the surrounding shades and Desire, who screamed at being hit.  
  
A few got close to Valkyrie and her entourage but at the last moment they all swerved and landed on the floor, wall and on the roof, all of them in near proximity to their group, but none getting close enough to be risky.  
  
Atalante couldn't really control the lines — once shot they usually were attracted to anything that moved without distinction, but she had some degree of influence in the direction they shot at and she was capable of "nudging" them mid-flight so they didn't hit anything she didn't want disintegrated.  
  
Still, accidents happened a few times. Lives got caught in the crossfire of powers and a scapegoat was always needed. Atalante got reassigned from a highly coveted position in the San Francisco Protectorate to the Quarantine Site 3 — Eagleton, Tennessee — to fight the Machine Army and to make sure no more civilians died in "villain attacks."  
  
It was a flashy, marketable power but it was also one that consumed everyone it touched with little distinction. Perfect for situations like this.  
  
In just a few seconds the lines connected with all the intended targets and — after counting to five — Valkyrie closed her eyes. When she did so she felt a wave of heat hit her in the face and, after counting to five once again, she opened her eyes.  
  
Instead of shadows what greeted her was the beautiful show of silver lights, shaped like small fires, swirling around her like playful will-o-wisps. Instead of feeling hot, they felt cold and weightless; where they touched someone they vanished in small showers of sparks as if they were never there.  
  
And they were all that remained of the shadows.  
  
_But not of Desire,_ Valkyrie thought. The so-called demon still remained, groaning on the ground and trying to stand up. Not very impressive for a so-called bringer of desires and dark wishes.  
  
“Thank you,” she said to Atalante, who just nodded her head before vanishing. In her place, the elegant figure of Cindrallion rose and started applying her power on Ciara, renewing defenses and calming emotions.  
  
With her shades following her Valkyrie strode towards the demon and put her blade on its neck.  
  
“Are you ready to answer my questions?” Valkyrie asked. “Or should we repeat that?”


	4. The Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara gets some answers.

**Chapter 4: The Fade.**

Desire looked at her with fear written on their face.

"Well?" Ciara said. "Are you ready to talk with no tricks or lies? Or I should just execute you?"

Pazuzu’s hands became fire, and the demon backtracked, but Gavel appeared behind them and made his intent clear when he grabbed the demon by their shoulders and _squeezed._

"Wait, mortal, wait," Desire said, quickly. "You have already proven your power to me. I have seen that to keep challenging you is folly. So please...have mercy and I'll answer all of your questions. I may even...grant you a wish. If you desire it, that is, with no deal attached, as proof of my submission to you. _Please.”_

“No,” Valkyrie said, pressing the blade a little tighter. “There’s no need for that. Honest answers to my questions will suffice. Understood?” 

The demon just nodded, but Valkyrie was still wary and called several powers to boost her body and resistances. Even though the demon had been defeated that didn’t mean the creature wouldn’t try to trap her into a deal or try to attack her out of spite. For all she knew, it was pretending to be helpless while trying to lure her into a false sense of security in order to defeat her and, as they put it, “experience the real world through her.”

No, she couldn’t lower her guard. Not now, and maybe never until she managed to return to the “real world,” as the demon called it.

But that world...would it still be Ciara’s? 

She didn't know the location of her physical body or the state of it — If she went back would she return as the monster or a woman? — or for how long she had been asleep. Months could have passed, maybe years. Still, not knowing was always worse and, in this case, dangerous, if Desire and their shadow minions were the norm for inhabitants of this dimension.

She had been called a mage, which indicated parahuman powers were something known and — according to the terminology used— believed to be magic, which implied a certain primitive belief in supernatural lore and ancient myths. Desire’s comments also showed she wasn't the only human that had passed through here, which also meant that this place was known well enough for people to venture in. That was troubling because it meant there was an entire society that had managed to contact the source of powers and create a system of belief around them.

It implied that in order to properly communicate with them she would also have to learn their traditions, their language, and their history, and she had never been a talented diplomat. She’d never complained when she had to play that part, but she’d always made clear to Chevalier that she thought there were people more qualified than her. 

Then again, perhaps there wouldn't even be the chance for diplomacy. Their society could be medieval enough to try and burn all the "mages" or "witches". Valkyrie included.

Of course, she could just be panicking for nothing and this realm was nothing more than the personal pocket dimension of someone that had read too many Maggie Holt books, among other more comfortable possibilities.

In the end, though, that was all she could do: theorize. She had no answers and her only available source of information was untrustworthy at best and murderous at worst.

Looking at the demon made all of Valkyrie's instincts scream to her that she needed to plunge her blade on the creature's neck and burn the remains. But that would mean that she would have to stumble around this unknown place without answers. And there was no guarantee that any other inhabitant would be more honest than Desire. 

Whatever happened though she was confident she could deal with it, just like she did with countless other threats and other challenges that she was sent to overcome.

She had to be confident.

 _'If you dare nothing,'_ Ciara thought. _'Then you'll earn nothing.'_

"What is this place?" Valkyrie finally asked. "No games, just answer me."

The demon smiled, kindly, and it made Valkyrie’s skin crawl. "This is the Fade, mortal, the realm of spirits and dreams. Your kind only comes here when they dream and even then, they can't affect this world or even be aware of what they're doing. Only those that possess magic are capable of both, and even then they're wary, cowed by the power they have. A sad thing isn't it? To be scared of what you are."

Valkyrie ignored the question and focused on what she heard. The Fade. Magic. Spirits. _Dreams._ As it was she found those terms oddly comforting. In part, because they were a throwback to a past time when life was more simple, if bloodier, and in another, because the relationship between powers and dreams was something proven by their studies and first-hand experiences — Like that fracture between realities in Bet, that had trapped civilians in dream realities that caused trigger events, Or — more recently — the "adventure" of Breakthrough and the Undersiders in the realm of the Agents.

But even with all the evidence gathered she was sure, none of the research or experiences described the realms of the Entities the way she was experiencing it. They depicted a realm of red crystals that was constantly changing, instead of the bare land of sickly green and black citadels. Neither were the inhabitants said to be anything like Desire. That meant that she probably wasn't in the same dimension or — more troubling— that the realm of the Entities had somehow evolved, through unknown methods. Or at least — if the word evolved didn't fit — it had become more welcoming to humans.

"You mentioned mages before. Tell me what they are. Who they are," Valkyrie demanded.

"Mages are what your kind call those that can draw power from the Fade and affect the waking world. According to what I know, only they can affect change in your world. How most of your kind can even live without the power to shape reality is beyond me, to be truthful."

 _"Draw power from the Fade,'_ Ciara thought. _'Then this is the source of powers for the parahumans of this Earth? Is this how the realm of the Agents evolved for some reason? Or maybe this place is a byproduct of the Agents interacting with the world?_

(There was also another option. The worst one, but she wasn't ready to admit that one was a possibility, not yet.) 

She had to know more. 

"How many mages are there?" She had doubts about this question. Even in Bet, the act of calculating the numbers of parahumans worldwide was a hazardous and tiresome task that she doubted that even the Number Man of Cauldron — later of Mortari — could successfully achieve.

Still, she didn't want an exact census. Just knowing how widespread they were would work for her.

The demon laughed, amused. "Do you think I know how your kind breeds, human? I only know they're feared for their great power and for their connection to my kind. Exact numbers elude me and they're of no importance to me because it doesn't matter how many there are, nor what _species_ they were born of, there's always _someone_ willing to deal with my kind."

Valkyrie filed away the fact they were feared for their power — some things never changed — and focused on something that piqued her interest and worry.

"Species? What do you mean by that?" She almost thought that Desire had meant race with that comment, but the way they said it and the _intonation_ of it, made clear it was something more than that. 

And looking at the way the demon reacted, Valkyrie immediately knew she was right and that she had made a mistake. 

"What a curious creature you are," they said. "You ask things that someone of your kind should know since birth and treat it as something cherished. I knew the instant I sensed you that you were unlike other mages but now? Now I know that—”

The blade tightened on the demon's neck till it started drawing ethereal green ichor. Desire hissed and flinched back, but Gavel was behind and grabbed them from behind, _squeezing_.

“Please save your comments and just keep answering me,” Valkyrie said, drily.

“As you wish,” Desire said, their voice still with a hint of smugness. 

The demon was angling for something. That much was obvious to her, but as to what she didn’t know. They had said that they wanted to feel the material world through her, but that was before they were defeated. Could they still be working to reach the same goal?

“How do I get out of the Fade? Is there a doorway? A gate?” That was probably one of the more important questions she could ask in order to bring an end to this conversation. She needed to return to the real world — to _her_ world — and learn what happened to the City and her comrades. 

“Leave, mortal?” Then as if Valkyrie had said a joke the demon laughed. “Do you think we are in the room? Do you think you and I are actually here? In one of your kind buildings? No, this is a world of dream and _intention._ You aren’t actually here. Just a part, just enough for you to explore the Fade and interact with us. Dreaming, but at the same time not. More in here than out there. Do you understand?” 

And despite the answer being wrapped in frustrating mysticism — one she used to be so familiar with — Valkyrie understood well enough. “Am I dreaming?” she said, more a question to herself than to the demon.

The creature smiled. “Yes and no. I don’t know if you’re dreaming, mortal, but you’ve stumbled into a realm made of a pure dream. A mage was sent here and the master of this realm shaped this place to make him weak and fat with fear.”

“Sent here? Why?”

“Their kind has devised a brutal test to prove they’re not at risk of being in danger of possession. He’s not the first that has come here and he won’t be the last.”

So many questions. Possession? What was magic? How could someone devise such a test? Every answer made her realize that this puzzle was bigger than she thought and that her preconceptions weren't pieces that fit.

But someone’s life was at risk and she was still a hero.

"You said someone was here beside me? Where are they?” 

The demon looked at her with something like joy flickering in their black eyes and Valkyrie knew she had been got. “He didn’t pass through here. Hubris wouldn’t allow it.” They spat but then smiled. “But you can help the poor thing. It is in your power if you chose to do so.”

“I see,” the heroine said and then began pressing the blade a little harder. “If you’re attempting to trick me…”

“What would be the point of that? “ the demon said. “You‘ve already proven your superiority to me and I have no need for a reminder. All I desire right now is to help you achieve your goals.”

“Why? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t expect you to do anything, least of all believe me. But know this: the Fade is split into several demesnes ruled by powerful spirits and demons. You’re in one of them; a part of the Fade ruled by a powerful pride demon called Hubris. He enjoys devouring the souls of mortals — mages most of all. And he rules over me and others like me with an iron fist.”

“And you dislike this,” Valkyrie said. 

“Would you enjoy being a dog? Or a servant? He enjoys seeing how the mages and their jailers interact and then he likes to replay those interactions between the lesser spirits in his domain. He gorges himself with souls and leaves almost nothing to the rest of us. Everywhere he goes, only ruins and misery remain. If you were to destroy him you would be unambiguously doing good and saving lives from ruin.” 

So many things Desire was sharing, so many things she could ask. But time seemed to be at a limit now and she focused on the most important things, the most immediate ones. 

“And it would set you and other demons free to eat and consume innocent people .”

Desire laughed raucously. “Your kind, _human,_ are rarely innocent of anything. You just don’t know it yet.”

Their tone had a smugness that Valkyrie disliked. That self-assurance that only knowledge brought but coupled with selfishness and the inability to properly share it, even when it was for the good of all. It was a staple of villainous thinkers and it always was for petty reasons. Control, ego, pleasure, and that wholehearted belief that only they knew how to properly use that knowledge.

With Teacher, it had been all four since even before the Birdcage. And Valkyrie was tired of those like him — who played with human lives and used them to reach their petty and selfish goals — and if she was to dethrone a tyrant, she would not help the rising of another one. She would rather burn it all.

“That isn’t helping your case. Tell me why I should not destroy you.”

“You could, you’re certainly mighty enough, but you’ll never reach the boy if you killed me. Hubris has split his realm among many isles and this is not the one where the harrowed mage is. He’s with Hubris in the center of his power. If you go on your own then you’ll find obstacle after obstacle and droves of enemies after you in every corner. But if you accept my offer then I would just need to open a way for you to save the mage.”

“And you’ll do this out of the goodness of your heart?” Valkyrie replied.

“No, I’ll do it out of survival. Promise me, you’ll spare me and I will open a path for you. Destroy me and the boy is dead, consumed by something far more dangerous than me.”

“And letting you free to gorge on souls?”

“Aren’t you being a hypocrite now? I’ve seen those you call to fight for you,” they said, pointing at Valkyrie’s shades. “At least I give them what they most desire and a choice to accept or not. Can you say the same?”

Valkyrie narrowed her eyes and, out of sheer disgust, thought for a long second about cutting the thing head’s off. Then, after taking one small breath, thought better, and chose to remain silent. She could’ve said many things, she could’ve said, for example, how she knew how everyone she met considered her creepy and still one hair’s breadth from becoming a monster once again. She could’ve also said how she was aware of her own hypocrisy, but that she knew it was for the greater good and she could _not_ use her power when so much depended on her. She could’ve said so many things in her defense, give reasons and arguments she had practiced so many times in her mind, and said several times to her detractors. And this time she could’ve spoken but she didn’t.

Mostly because Valkyrie realized that was what Desire wanted. To draw her into a verbal fight and beat her with an argument. 

(And maybe, just maybe, because she was tired of repeating them so many times without a change happening. Maybe she was always destined to be treated like that.)

"How could I know you won't betray me? And how does saving the mage help me wake up?" she asked.

“Do you think I'm one of your kind? A human? Deals for us demons are sacred. Vow to forgive my life and I will help to save that mage. I won't betray you. I know now that you can end me at any time. And about your second question: the boy was sent here to defeat Hubris and only after he has proven himself will he wake up. The same will happen to you if you destroy him. He's stopping you from waking up, after all."

“But you'll still be free and wishing to go to the material world."

“And I repeat what I said. You’re free to destroy me, it’s in your power to do so, but know you’ll never reach the mage in time. Hubris hungers for a powerful vessel and he’ll wreak more havoc in the mortal world than I ever will. If you spare me then I’ll also promise you won’t hear from me ever again. We won’t cross paths and I’ll be someone else’s trouble.”

Ciara wanted to say no. She wanted to destroy this creature and be confident that she could reach the person in time; that she could save them, but the demon was right in something. She didn’t know much about this place, she didn’t know of its rules and what she could do. Doormaker wasn’t working and he was the most effective long-range mover she had. She hadn’t wanted to risk other movers since time, space and physics didn’t seem to have much meaning until they had, like now. 

She hated this. She hated not knowing enough and despised the feeling of powerlessness it brought.

 _“Sometimes,”_ Legend had told her way back when she was just starting as a hero, _“we have to compromise with evils we don’t like in order to do the most good. We don’t have to like them, and I’m guilty of allowing too many evils to live and thrive for a cause I thought was right and just, but in the end, it caused as many problems as it fixed.”_

 _"Why are you telling me this?”_ she had asked, wary. They hadn’t interacted much before this. An awkwardness had always existed between them, even more palpable than the one between her and the rest of the Wardens. Probably because she had collected Eidolon, one of his closest friends. 

_“I’m telling you this because I also was a new hero with strong power. I thought I was strong enough to make a difference and save everyone that needed saving. All of us thought that. But that’s the hardest lesson that needs to be learned._

_Not everyone can be saved.”_

And he was right. Not everyone could be saved, and she wasn’t a good hero. But she still was a hero, here or in Gimel, or any of the other Earths she’d been to, and someone was in need of help. Even if she had to allow a lesser evil to live… for now. 

Valkyrie made a choice. “Very well. You’ve got a deal. I’ll let you live and in exchange, you will help me rescue the mage.” She pulled her blade out of the demon’s neck and stepped back. Her shades followed her. 

“Perfect,” Desire said, smiling and standing up. “I knew you’d see sense.”

Then, before Valkyrie could say anything else, the demon extended their hands and grabbed something in the thin hair, and _pulled._

As if she had pulled from a loose thread, a patch of the reality behind Desire unraveled, and suddenly a patch of the room was extremely different from the other — this one was a hallway with doors and paintings at the side and a rich blue carpet rolled out on the floor.

"That's the Nightmare of the Mage," Desire said, laughter in her voice. "Where Hubris and the mage are expecting you. Good luck."

Giving a hesitant look to the demon, Valkyrie steeled her resolve — while calling up various powers in case anything happened — and stepped into the portal.

"Have fun, and please, survive. You’re too fascinating to die now," the demon said, as the portal closed behind Valkyrie. “Oh, and remember, _Faerie Queen_ , real challenges never end.”


	5. Interlude: Harrowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Magic is dangerous, just as fire is dangerous. Anyone who forgets this truth gets burned."
> 
> Vivienne, Madame de Fer, and First Enchanter of the Circle of Montsimmard.

**Interlude: Harrowed.**

In the Tower, the first lesson they forced on us wasn't about magic. It was about religion.

_ “Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. _

_ Foul and corrupt are they _

_ Who have taken His gift _

_ And turned it against His children. _

_ They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. _

_ They shall find no rest in this world _

_ Or beyond.” _

Such were the words of the prophetess Andraste — transcribed by her disciple Justinia to the Canticle of Transfigurations — and we were told from a young age to burn them in our minds, or someone else would do so for us; because the sin of the ancient Magisters, who dared to taint the Golden City, was our sin, and we carried their taint in our power. We were told by the Chantry that our magic was a curse and that we were dangerous. That in order for the rest of the world to be safe we had to be locked inside our towers, and that we were supposed to be grateful for that because the other option was to slit our throats and drown us as babies. 

They shoved their shit down our throats and they expected us to smile and say it tasted like honey, that we wanted more, and to plead forgiveness for the sin of being born. 

I hated it, and I despised those that went with the whole dog and pony show. I hated how they scraped for the leftovers of the Chantry, how they denigrated themselves and bowed their heads to the templars, pretending to be grateful for their presence while hiding how unnerving it was that they were always there. Watching. And sometimes... more than just watching. 

I hated it all, but I understood that in order to survive you had to do things you didn't like. Even when that was doing nothing, and keeping quiet in the sight of injustice. Because it helped, in a way, to keep our delusion alive. That we had a choice, that if we were good mages the Chantry would go softer on us, that we would go out and live normal lives. It helped to keep us sane; to keep us alive and relatively whole, and it helped us ignore the fact that one night we could disappear and never be seen again. 

As a son of nobility, I had privileges — that I didn’t ask for — that protected me a little compared to others, but that didn’t mean safety. One was never safe in a Circle Tower. It didn't matter who you were or what you did; as long you had magic you belonged to _ them. _

And that made me think of Andraste — who fought for the freedom of slaves — and I couldn’t help but think she’d be disappointed by what her Chantry became. 

After all, how was the woman that fought to defeat a slaver Empire supposed to feel if she learned she helped in the creation of another?

⊙

That night started like any other night. We all gathered in the grand salon of the third floor for dinner, which the Tranquil made for us. The room — with its multiple small tables and its few large ones — was a common place for us to gather and chat after a long day of hard work. We ate and chatted with one another of the recent happenings of the Tower, while we tried to ignore the constant rows of armed Templars behind us.

As usual, the food was delicious and varied, with all of us having the freedom to choose where we sat, while the Knight-Commander with the First Enchanter and other select few watched over us from the head table, at the end of the room.

First Enchanter Lydia looked in my direction and smiled, raising her glass of wine as a wave and I answered in kind, if a little more warily, before continuing on my way to meet my friends in one of the more smallish tables that were big enough to hold more than five people but less than ten.

After sitting, I immediately greeted my friends as usual and then I quickly turned to look to the other tables — in the direction of the full-fledged mages — trying to see where Rosemarie was, my heart aching with guilt and my mood somber. Our fight was still fresh in my mind and her last words had been echoing inside of me since then.

Maker, what a fool I had been. I had to fix this.

“Have you guys heard about Thomas?” Anne said, at my side. “I’ve heard he volunteered for the Rite of Tranquility!”

Lesas snorted, his messy straw blonde hair barely covering his elven ears. “Yeah, right. Who did you hear that from? Leanne? You can't trust that one. Everyone knows she’s a little bit crazy from her Harrowing. How the First Enchanter even let her teach apprentices is a mystery only the Maker knows.”

“You shouldn’t be saying that! Leanne is a very talented mage that passed her Harrowing with flying colors according to what I heard. Maybe she’s a bit...eccentric but she knows what she’s talking about. And most important she’s—”

“Crazy,” Lesas interrupted. “Right, Max?" I just nodded at his words, peripherally aware that he was talking to me but not really paying much attention to it. Every word they said went through one ear and exited through the other one without distinction.

“See, even Max agrees with me. Everyone knows it, Anne. There’s a  _ reason why _ the templars check her for signs of corruption more than anyone else. She’s a  _ necromancer,  _ for Maker’s sake. Who knows what sort of experiments she does in the laboratories. You should stop talking to her, the templars are going to get bad ideas about you two.”

“Stop talking like necromancy was some sort of forbidden magic already! The Circle of Nevarra has published several papers about it, explaining why it has nothing to do with summoning demons or blood magic. It is a branch of magic just as viable as any other.”

"Yeah,  _ in _ Nevarra. Their mages practically run the place there, what with their citizens' creepy obsession with corpses and how old their king is. But we're not there and it is well known how devout the nobility is in Ostwick. Hunting mages was practically a sport for them in the past."

"Yeah, well, things are changing, you know. After...you know what happened in Kirkwall, the Chantry has to have realized they cannot keep going like this. They  _ need _ us, even if they want to deny it."

Lesas laughed and took a bite of his chicken. "You really don't know the Chantry then. Have you talked to Mother Rowena? That woman is capable of denying the sky is blue and the tiles of the floor are grey if it suits her worldview."

"Okay, maybe mother Rowena is not the best example, but sister Analea is really nice—"

"I'm pretty sure she almost called me a knife-ear the other day."

"You think everyone's about to call you a knife-ear at least once."

"That's because they are and—"

"Have you guys heard about Thomas and the Rite of Tranquility?" Kendra said, suddenly coming from behind with a goblet of wine and apple pie in hand, startling Lesas, who let out a very unmanly scream and caused Anne to snort in her wine.

I just nodded at her as a way of greeting and kept eating, absentmindedly chewing but not tasting anything, thinking of where Rosemary was. I tried searching for her beautifully distinctive golden hair, but she was nowhere to be seen. Was she still mad at me? How could I make her understand I did not mean such words? She wouldn't just leave it like that, right? She couldn't. She wouldn't.

"What— don't do that!" Lesas said, his hand on his chest and his expression harried. "You almost gave me a heart attack, woman!"

"Everything gives you a heart attack, Les. You're always jumpy, like a _rabbit_ ," she teased, ruffling his hair.

Lesas’ expression darkened. "You know, I've been itching to try these new fire spells I've learned recently. Want to volunteer?"

Kendra smiled and took a nibble of her apple pie. "I'm too much of a woman for you to handle, sweetie. And let's be honest, you've never had a woman before, so it’d be you stumbling in the dark trying to hit something with your...staff."

Lesas turned red as an apple, which gave me the idea that maybe if I gave Rose a slice of apple pie she would deign to talk to me. She’d always loved desserts and apple pie was one of her favorites.

"Umm yeah, can't we try and not talk about staves and, uh, thrusting stuff, please? What did you say about Thomas, Kendra? Is it true?"

Kendra grinned. "I never said anything about thrusting but  _ fiiiine."  _ Then her expression turned serious. "Yes, Thomas apparently volunteered for the Rite of Tranquility. The dumbass. I heard it from Superior Enchanter Leonard, this afternoon.”

Rose had always liked Leonard. She said his classes were exciting. Maker, I missed her. She couldn't just leave with things as they were right now, right? She had to give me a chance to explain myself at least.

Lesas’ face fell. "But...really? Why!? I mean, does he know what they're going to do to him? He's going to stop being human and turn into a Tranquil!?"

"Tranquils are still human," Anne said, harshly.

"Yeah, you said that because your mentor never forced you to help in the deposit. Spend more than five minutes with them and you'll know what I mean. They're not human, Anne. They'd been stripped of that. Only the shell remains."

"You can't just say that they're —"

"Not the point of the conversation," Kendra interrupted. "And I'd like to eat without another argument,  _ please. _ What about you, Trevelyan? Heard anything good from First Enchanter Lydia? Trevelyan?

I nodded at her and said, "Sure, whatever you said," with practiced ease before grabbing another bite of my chicken thighs. 

There had to be a way I could talk to her. I knew that relations in the Circle were almost always meant to end but...it couldn't be this way. With a quiet whimper and us ignoring each other every time we crossed paths in the Tower. If only magic could heal—

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a strong shove on my side and I landed on the floor.

The cold touch of it and the hardness of my fall woke me up to my surroundings and I cursed aloud to Kendra — who mischievously smiled at me.

"What the fuck!?" I said, ignoring the murmurs of the other tables and the side glances from other mages. Some of the Templars looked in our direction, but none moved, and unless someone started casting they would remain like that. 

“You weren't paying attention to me, or any of us. And you know how I hate being ignored,” Kendra said, as I rose and cleaned off my robes. 

“I wasn't ignoring you,” I snapped, angry. I had been, though.

“Uh, huh,” Kendra said. “And I'm the Queen of Ferelden. Now, are you done brooding like a child?”

“I wasn't brooding,” I answered, coldly. 

“Now that I notice, you were a little...standoffish,” Anne said before Kendra could open her mouth again. She looked concerned and I hated that. Anne had enough things to be concerned about on a daily basis and I didn't want to be one of them.

“Are you okay, Max? I know we were a bit… self-centered right now, but you do know you can tell us anything, right? 

“I said, I'm fine. I was just busy. Focusing on my assignments and stuff,” I said, mulishly. I knew my friends meant well but I wasn't in the mood for sharing. Irrational as it was, I wanted to keep this pain to myself, for a little while. The last remnant of one of the few things that could be truly called mine, in my whole life.

Lesas snorted. “You lie like shit, Max. I've known you since you were six and you've never managed to hide your tells. Now, what's wrong? Who's the asshole I need to set on fire now?"

"More like the bitch  _ we _ need to set on fire," Kendra said with a knowing glint in her eyes. "This is about Rosemarie isn't it?"

"Don't call her that," I said to her. "She's not a bitch."

My friends just sighed, tired expressions on their faces as they looked at me as if I was the biggest clown they'd ever met and this was just a sad, humorless joke.

"Look man, I don't want to say we told you so, but—"

"We told you so," Kendra said. "We warned you about her and you didn't listen."

"It was my fault," I said. "I – we argued and I said things and then… I don't know. She's been avoiding me."

“Of course, she's avoiding you. She's a coward and your brother is an ass, simple as that.”

“Can't we talk of anything else?” I said, trying to poorly deflect. “What did you say about Thomas, Anne?”

Lesas rolled his eyes at my poor attempt of moving the conversation to other topics, but kept his mouth quiet and lightly pinched Kendra’s arm when she tried to continue with the topic. Anne just sighed. They were good friends, the three of them, and they didn't deserve to be dragged into my petty drama when they had concerns of their own. It wasn't fair to them and I wasn't worth that much concern. 

"He's taking the Rite of Tranquility,” Lesas said. “He's a coward.”

“You shouldn't be saying that,” Anne replied, furiously. “He must have his reasons.”

“Yeah,” Lesas said. “That he's a coward. He probably heard he was being considered for the Harrowing and instead of doing the right thing and facing it as a mage would, he immediately balks and goes to the Chantry for answers. Fucking choirboy.”

Before he could continue Kendra interrupted him. “The reason why he volunteered is meaningless. For all, we know it's just a rumor. But”—she turned her head to look at me—“did the First Enchanter say anything? Or maybe something slipped by when she was giving you lessons?”

“Not really?” I said, trying to recall today's lessons. “She was busy as always so we didn't talk too much today. I only listened and followed her instructions, as usual."

Kendra huffed and rolled her eyes. “Really, Trevelyan, what use are you for us? The First Enchanter, of all people, picks you as her personal apprentice and you don't use that opportunity to learn a little about gossip from the outside of the Tower or maybe…. maybe who's next for the Harrowing rites? You know, the important,  _ life-defining _ rite of passage we all have to go through?"

“Are you still with that?” I said to her. “I told you already, the First Enchanter is not sloppy. She wouldn't leave important papers such as these in the open. Stop asking.”

“Fiiine,” Kendra replied. “But can't fault me for trying. Not all of us have our positions in the Circle already safe and cozy thanks to our rich parents.”

I narrowed my eyes. I thought this matter was settled between us. I’d already told her what I thought of my family and their supposed meddling and she’d already made clear her opinion on the subject 

"Kendra…" Anne started.

"No, let her talk," I said. "She won't shut up until she says her piece."

"How kind of you to let this poor peasant talk,  _ my lord _ ," she said with a mocking smile. 

My fists clenched and I felt anger burning inside of me. The Fade answered in kind and I felt the power within me churn and move, ready to be used. Ready to lash out and make Kendra shut her damn mouth. I didn't though, mostly because I knew it wouldn't solve anything and because the Templars would be on me before I could do anything else.

_ 'She knows I hate when someone calls me that.' _

"I thought we had already talked about this," I said. 

She narrowed her eyes and turned in her seat to look at the surrounding tables. More specifically, to the templars near us, and then to a table not far from us. The table of the loyalists; the ones that loved to eat the Chantry shit and spew it to all of us. Thomas used to be one of them and, in a particularly dark moment, my friends and I joked that if the Circle ever got Annulled these guys would just do the Templar’s job for them and slit their own throats with a smile on their faces.

It used to be a joke, a small jab, to those that thought that if they bowed to all the Chantry's whims they would get more freedoms, or that maybe their bootlicking behavior would cause the Divine to have a Maker's sent epiphany about her treatment of the Circles.

We used to laugh about them and how annoying they were, but now — after Kirkwall — it stopped being funny. There was a… tension in the air. One that needed naught but a spark to set everything on fire around us. After the Champion of Kirkwall sided with the mages and helped kill Knight-Commander Meredith, the Circle was a buzz of news and gossip about what we could do and what we would do. The Knight-Commander of Kirkwall had been crazy, so deranged that they said even her men had turned against her and helped the Champion kill her. It made us wonder. What happened there, could it happen here? Were we going to awake one day with the Templars’ swords over our heads? Was this the time to rebel, to be free?

An apostate had killed a Grand Cleric and, for that, all the mages in the city had been condemned. Why did we deserve to be judged by the actions of a deranged man? Of an  _ abomination _ , of all things? Haven't we been loyal enough to them? Fought in their wars? Didn't we help defeat the qunari and defend Thedas during Blights? How much did we have to prove ourselves in order to be accepted by the wider population? Would it ever be enough?

The neverending questions eventually consumed the Circle, and from there, it evolved into shimmering unrest that wouldn't find any sort of appeasement. We were angry, scared, and uncertain of our future. An explosive combination made even more so when the Templars answered with the only tool at their disposal: violence.

The punishments and the beatings increased in number and severity and more mages and apprentices were sentenced to solitary confinements at the depth of the Tower. Anne’d had to clamp Lesas’ mouth before he said something to the Knight-Captain he'd regret, and I’d had to drag Kendra away before she joined in one of the protests.

Things had only calmed down when the First Enchanter made a proclamation in front of the whole Circle that, as long she was in charge, she wasn't going to allow disarray or chaos in the Tower.

"What happened in Kirkwall was a tragedy, but I think you all need the reminder that this is  _ not _ Kirkwall," she had started. She had stood in front of the crowd in her best green robes, with her makeup tastefully put, and her hair — according to Anne — arranged in the latest Marcher fashion. She was the perfect picture of what a noble should look like: Regal, proud and beautiful.

And, oh, how I fucking hated her for it in that moment. 

“I'm the First Enchanter here and I will not be questioned, either by my own people  _ or  _ the Templars. Faxhold has been loyally serving the Chantry and Ostwick since its foundation and I'm not going to let it crumble because of the failures of another Circle. I've already spoken with the Knight-Commander and his men will stand down, and those that… went out of hand in the disciplinary actions, are to receive heavy punishment from the Knight-Commander.” She’d paused and looked at all of us like we were a bunch of misbehaving children. As if our doubts were not legitimate and the abuses some of us suffered weren’t real. “For safety reasons it has been determined that all mages will be locked in their own rooms for the duration of two days with _ no _ exception, whatsoever. The Enchanters will escort the apprentices to their rooms and then go to their assigned lodging. At the command of the Knight-Commander, Templars will patrol the Circle and _ properly  _ discipline those that escape from their rooms. This is your punishment. You're not children, so don’t behave like them.”

Protests had risen immediately after that ´pronouncement’ — all rushed, with everyone talking over everyone else — none managing to find a sympathetic ear. The Knight Commander had silenced everyone with a yell and a threat of Smite if everyone didn't shut up and do what the First Enchanter had said.

“And be grateful to her,” he’d said in his gruff, deep voice. He’d looked tired of everyone’s shit, but of course, he was always like that, especially when there were mages involved. “I would’ve been less...kind when dealing with you lot. Now behave and do as your First Enchanter said. Men, make sure everything goes smoothly and without the ‘magical accidents’ that were so common this last week.” 

Things calmed down after, but not by much. Just like Knight–Commander Draden said, ‘magical accidents’ became rarer after that and the Circle returned to normalcy. At least on the surface. In truth, the Tower was a simmering pot of factions and ideologies ready to burst. No one could agree on anything and everyone was ready to point fingers at who was to blame, and that made a lot of people nervous.

People like Kendra or Lesas, particularly— elves and humans without a drop of noble blood in them. Without someone on the outside that cared for them or without enough influence to pull strings inside the Circle. 

"Listen," Kendra continued. "I know you don't like your family and you would be happy without anyone remembering the fact that you're a noble, but the fact is, you _ are _ a noble, whether you like it or not. You're the son of one of Ostwick's oldest and most prominent noble families, and no matter how much you wish to be a mudfooted commoner like Lesas and me –"

"I'm not a commoner," Lesas interjected weakly from the side.

"Shut up," Kendra said. "And yes, you are. Magic aside, that’s how everyone would see us. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. You're a noble and we're not, and hating that is not going to change anything. You have advantages we don't have and that's the truth, that's why you need to understand you are safe in a way we're not."

"I'm not a noble," Anne said weakly, at my side.

Lesas rolled his eyes, his expression was tired and annoyed. "No, but you're the bastard lovechild between an Orlesian noble and her so-called true love. She's a donor to the Circle and has come to visit a few times. To say she would be upset if something happens to you would be an understatement."

"Everyone knows the First Enchanter works really hard to make the Circle an invaluable thing for Ostwick, and part of the job is kissing up to the nobles' arses. Or making their sons her personal apprentices."

I narrowed my eyes and made a noise of protest at her for that. I did not ask to be mentored by Lydia, and it could even be said that she  _ forced  _ me into the mentorship.

"Look, I'm not saying you don't deserve it," Kendra continued." In fact, I'll say you've earned that honor — Maker knows no one else is good enough for the First Enchanter — but you can't say to me you're the only one who deserves it. In the end, you  _ know _ the decision came down to who your parents are and the fact they're loyal Andrastians who have sent one of their sons or daughters to the Chantry every generation."

"I know that. All of that," I replied. How couldn't I? Especially after my father outright told me, to my face, how shameful it was that I had been born with magic; as if it had been my fault. But of course, blaming us — his children — for things beyond our control was something that father was very skilled at. That and being an offensive twat.

"Can you tell me what your point was? Because I thought you wanted to eat," I said, touching my now lukewarm chicken and mashed potatoes. 

She rolled her eyes and took another bite of apple pie. "I'm telling you because you aren't taking the situation seriously enough. Specifically, with the Harrowing." She leaned her head closer to me and spoke lower. "Everyone knows that crazy bitch in Kirkwall did whatever she wanted and used the Rite of Tranquility to punish light offenses. She even used it on  _ mages.  _ Not apprentices. I mean full-fledged Harrowed mages."

"This is not Kirkwall," I hissed. Of all the things Lydia had said that day, that was probably the only one I completely agreed on. "Stannard could do whatever she wanted because she  _ killed _ the previous Viscount and controlled the next one. Dreaden wouldn't even dare to do a fraction of what Stannard did. The Grand Cleric would eat him alive, that is, if the Theryn doesn't grab him first and burns Faxhold.” 

“That's not the fucking point, Max,” Kendra said. “The point is that we're all near or at the age where they call us for the Harrowing and we don't know what that is. Some of the Templars in here saw the mages rebelling in Kirkwall as a challenge _. _ Some even said that what Stannard did was  _ right. _ We have the right to know what the hell these bastards are going to put us through. Nobody cares if something happens to an apprentice; they see us as untested. But being a mage gives us protections we wouldn't have otherwise."

"And you want to spy on Lydia for that information," I said, dubiously.

"Not spying, but—" Lesas started.

"You're the only apprentice of the First Enchanter. She usually takes two or three to personally train if they impress her enough, but the last few years she’s been busier with court and politics so she doesn't have the same time. Besides the Superior Enchanters, you're the only one close enough to see what we need.”

“It’s not just about us,” Lesas said. “The others are nervous too. They want to know what's going to happen. I know it is a lot to ask but could you please try? For all of us?"

Anne made a noise of protest at my side. "I'm not okay with this. You're forcing Max to take a risk that could potentially end his apprenticeship with the First Enchanter. And for what? To learn something that is kept a secret for a reason? You can't ask him to do this!"

I looked at my friends and sighed. Maker, wasn't this a mess. "Can't you just ask someone in the mage's quarters? What about Marcel? Can't he tell you?"

"Marcel and I aren't speaking to one another," Kendra said, crisply. "And he refused to talk about it. Max, please. I know you don't like it, but  _ everyone _ is nervous and scared. More apprentices are disappearing by the week and no one knows if they're dead or if they were sent to another Circle."

I thought about the Harrowing. Everyone was scared of it and with good reasons. It was the rite of passage that tested if an apprentice was ready to become a full-fledged member of the Circle of Magi, but no one knew  _ how _ they tested you for such "honor." The rumor was that the Enchanters summoned a demon for you to fight and if you lost the Templars killed you and threw your body to the sea. Another rumor, even more outrageous, was the price for failing was that the First Enchanter turned you into a pig and then gave you to the Tranquils and servants to turn you into dinner.

Probably none of them were true, but that didn't help to soothe the nervousness and fear of younger apprentices who were already twitchy enough with the Templars.

"Fine," I agreed. "I'll help you. I'll see if I can do anything."

"Really!?" Lesas and Kendra said, their tones incredulous. They probably expected me to say no and with good reason. Risking the anger of the First Enchanter was something I never would've done before. But right now, I needed help with something, and the mention of the Harrowing reminded me of another unpleasant situation I was going to be forced into.

"Really?" Anne said as well.

"Really," I repeated. "But I want something in exchange."

"Anything," Lesas said, quickly.

"You're still talking to Ser Damien, right?" I said to Kendra, who warily nodded.

"Yes? I know he's a Templar but he's kind of nice and—"

"Don't care," I said. "Laila told me he's one of the Templars in charge of the visits this month and I need him to say to someone that they  _ can't  _ visit. Promise me you'll convince him. You know his price. I'll even give you some of my lyrium If you need it."

"Max..." Anne said, her tone sad, but Lesas grabbed her hand and shook his head. "No," he mouthed to her.

Kendra looked at me for a moment. "Okay," she said, and then paused for a second. "Your siblings, or your father?"

"Doesn't matter," I said, trying to deflect. I knew my mother wouldn't come, she was too busy. "I just don't want them here."

"Fine," Kendra said, her tone so gentle it almost hurt. "I promise I'll do my best in order to convince him."

"Can we eat in peace now?" Anne just said. "The food is really nice tonight and I don't want the efforts to go to waste."

"Sure," I said. "Been trying to do that since the beginning."

As we continued with our meal, I thought about the Harrowing and what it did to mages. I knew it had to be bad, but how bad exactly? I wanted to believe that it wasn't as nightmarish as everyone made it seem. That it gave mages a fighting chance to prove ourselves and to show the Chantry and the First Enchanters that we weren't ticking demon bombs.

In hindsight, I should've known better.

⊙

They came in the night and forced me out of my bed.

Templars. Their armored boots were oddly silent on the tiled floor as they grabbed me and forced me out of my bed. 

I struggled. More out of instinct and need than out of a genuine belief that I could really escape. If they wanted to kill me I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of making it easy. A spiteful last act, to make up of years of obedience and meekness. A nice way to die.

Their grip was strong and before I could cast a spell, one of them kneed me in the gut. I screamed — pain blooming from my stomach while one of them cussed and snarled — but before anything else could happen an angry voice spoke.

“What in the Maker’s name do you all think you're doing?” The Templars hastily dropped me to the ground and they stood at attention.

“Ma’am, we were told to–” one of the Templars started saying.

“You were told to bring the apprentice to the top of the lighthouse in an orderly manner. Not gag him and punch him. You should be ashamed, men.” 

“Knight-Lieutenant, he–”

“He behaved as anyone else would have done so in his situation. Leave, I shall escort him myself since you're all unable to do so peacefully.” 

“Ma’am, with all due respect, the Knight-Commander—”

“Will understand once I explain what happened. Now”—she clasped her hands and smiled at the Templars behind me—“please leave us. I have an apprentice to escort, after all.”

They hesitantly did as they were told, giving me dirty looks that were clear to me even with helmets on. As if it was my fault.

“Are you okay?” Knight-Lieutenant Morgan said. She had always been one of the good ones and, just for that, I was glad to see her.“They shouldn't have done that. I'll make sure to report them and that the Knight-Commander does something.”

"I'm fine," I lied while trying not to scoff. As if reporting them to Draden would do anything. He probably knew and didn't care. "Nothing I can't really fix."

I touched my gut and winced at the bruise I felt, but a quick application of healing energies quickly fixed that. 

"I'm glad for that," Morgan said. "But you need to come with me. Both the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander Draden asked for you."

Oh. So they had actually asked for me.

"I'm in trouble? Did I say something or maybe I failed in something? Or…"

"You'll have to see. I'm not allowed to say," Morgan said with a gentle, if a little nervous, smile. "But no, you're not in trouble. Just come with me, please, and you'll know."

I followed her through the floors of the Tower in quiet silence, my mind already suspecting of what was happening but having trouble processing it. A part of me couldn't even believe it.

_ 'Maker _ ,' I thought, desperately.  _ 'Give me strength.' _

I reached the top of the Tower, where my eyes saw the Enchanters and the Templars gathered there, and only then reality finally catch up to me and I finally understood 

This was a Harrowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit heavier on the Dragon Age side, so if any of you have any doubts about the setting this chapter may clear some questions… or just make more hahaha. Anyways this chapter is a bit exposition-heavy so I hope it doesn’t drag too much. And, last but not least, thanks to all the lovely people in the Cauldron discord that made this chapter readable


	6. Interlude: Harrowed II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was my Harrowing. They force this upon all mages and call it good. But it is neither good nor right. It is evil and unjust.
> 
> —From a partially destroyed journal bearing no name, found in a Kinloch Hold cistern.

**Interlude: Harrowed II.**

"Magic exists to serve man and never to rule him," Draden said, his voice coarse as he glared at me. "Thus spoke the prophetess Andraste when she defeated the evil Magisters of Tevinter.

"Your magic is a gift, but also a curse, for demons of the dream realm — The Fade — are drawn to you and seek to use you as a gateway to this world."

"This is why the Harrowing exists," continued Lydia, her green robes billowing from the light sea breeze. "This is a ritual, a trial by fire, and a rite of passage to prove you're ready to become a member of the Circle capable of resisting the temptations of the demons."

I stared at them, my mind numb and my heart beating faster than it had ever had in my life. A Harrowing. _My own_ Harrowing. Maker, I wasn't ready. I couldn't – I just….why now? Why me? Of all of the apprentices in the Tower, why was I chosen to go through this?

"I-" I stopped. My voice had been trembling. I couldn't afford to look weak in front of the Templars and Enchanters. "Do I have a choice?"

"There's the Rite of Tranquility, that–" Draden started.

"Will take away your magic _and_ your emotions," Lydia interrupted. "It’s a controversial ritual, but a necessary one to cut the weak-willed away so they don't endanger us all with their indecision and questionable control of their powers."

_‘And you're not one of them,’_ she left unspoken. As always, her trust in me was as heartwarming as it was unsettling.

_'I'm not a tool for your games,'_ I said inwardly, but I still acquiesced by nodding at her.

"Through the Harrowing, you'll prove you're ready to take the responsibility of becoming a member of our brotherhood of mages and show us the strength of your will. I have faith you'll succeed," the First Enchanter continued, ignoring the withering glance Draden directed at her.

I gulped and tried to find bravery inside me. I always knew this was going to happen eventually. We all did, but…

It was still hard. The uncertainty and everything it entailed. 

_'I could die,_ ' I thought, the realization bitter and cold. _'That's why so many apprentices disappear or choose Tranquility. This could kill me. Maker, why me?_

"W-What do I need to do?" I said, my voice stuttering for a second before I caught myself. _Don't show them your fear. This is nothing but another test and you'll succeed. You have to._

"You'll be sent to the Fade," Draden said "where you'll show us the strength of your will by challenging one of the Maker's first children: a demon."

My eyes widened and I couldn't stop myself. A _demon._ The Circle spent decades teaching us about their dangers and monstrous nature, and now they were throwing me at one!? 

'I _guess you were right on one thing, Kendra,'_ I thought. _'Damn you for being right and damn them for making me do this.'_

"And if I fail?" I asked, unnecessarily. I already knew what would happen — there was only one reason for Templars to be here — but I needed to hear it from him. 

"You'll be killed," Draden answered, his cold grey eyes locked into mine with nothing but hatred and indifference in them, even if his voice betrayed nothing. 

He'd always hated me and I could never figure out why. I only knew that the instant he saw me — a mere child, standing at the side of a twitchy Lesas who looked at everything with awe and fear in his elven eyes — I’d seen the light in Draden’s eyes disappear and be replaced with something ugly and savage. 

For years I had wondered if he was going to act on those feelings, if someday he was going to call me to his office and 'disappear’ me like the Knight–Commander of Kirkwall had done with so many of her mages, but surprisingly, he never did. He just watched us, like any Templar would.

Like a fool, I had dropped my guard. I thought he would never do anything more than just watch but now —looking at his empty gaze and his scarred face — I realized something. He had just been waiting, like any other predator would, for the right time to strike. And this was it. My Harrowing. The only time where Draden could kill me and face no repercussions for it, besides the eternal displeasure and enmity of the First Enchanter and maybe my mother. But they wouldn't care for that long, either. 

Lydia would find another promising mage with another rich family to groom, and my mother would stop grieving once she saw the political benefits of having the family's shame dead.

Draden would get what he wanted. My death and… something else most likely. I hadn't discarded the possibility that he was just a sadist that wanted to see me suffer, but I never thought that his motives could be so shallow and shortsighted. 

Family of ancient name besides, I was still just a mage. I had no say or part in my family's political plays and my magic had stripped me of any right to their holdings and titles. Killing me would have no effect, besides making a bit of a mess for the Tranquil and servants to clean.

"By then, killing you would be a mercy," Draden continued, ignorant of my ruminations. "A demon would have possessed your body and turned you into an abomination. A mad and terrible creature with a desire for wanton destruction."

"I see." What other answer could that speech warrant? He’d just told me they would kill me if they saw signs of corruption after I battle a _demon_ of all things. Maker, was it like this every time? With every apprentice that came here? How could they!? Didn't they hear how insane everything sounded?

"You'll do just fine," the first Enchanter whispered from where she’d stepped behind me, softly pushing me forward. "Remember your lessons about the Fade and you'll succeed. I know you will. Just keep your wits about you. I know you’re ready, Max, you just don't realize it."

_'That's because I'm not,_ ' I wanted to say. _'I'm not ready for my Harrowing. I'm not ready to fight a demon. I honestly don't see what makes you think I am.'_

She placed me at the center of the circular room, on a raised dais where a silvery font —marked with glowing runes of _containment, dream, and spirits_ — had been placed and filled with a shiny substance that _sang_ to me. Lyrium.

"Remember that the Fade is a realm of dreams," Lydia continued, her tone tinted with a nervous edge. "It's shaped by your will and the will of its inhabitants, so it isn't always what it seems. Be ready for anything, and trust nothing that is shown to you."

"The apprentice must go through the Harrowing alone, First Enchanter," Draden said. "He's not a child who needs to be led by the hand. He's ready."

Lydia frowned, but eventually nodded and took a step back. Draden pointed to the dais. "This is lyrium. The very essence of magic and your gateway to the Fade. Come and let the Harrowing — and our watch over you — begin."

_'So, it’s time to start.'_ I took a breath and moved, every step a death sentence. 

' _Maker,'_ I thought. _'Grant me the strength_ _to survive this.'_ I never was a very religious person, but the Chantry sisters always said the Maker could hear us in our hour of need, and what greater need would I ever have than this one?

I walked to the lyrium font and felt its song soak into my bones. One of my fingers softly brushed the refined lyrium and my whole body started vibrating with the reverberating sounds of the song. Around me the Fade twisted and pulled and the song increased its tempo, now with a glow that held my eyes.

As the energies pooled and the song reached its climax, I managed to tear my eyes away from the enrapturing melody to look at Draden's hateful gaze one last time.

_'I'll survive this,'_ I vowed. _'If only to spite you and your whole order of butchers.'_

Then I lost control of my body and I was enveloped in blinding light.

**⊙**

  
  


I still remembered when I first saw the Fade as a child. It was also, the day I discovered my magic and my life changed.

I had dreamed of a huge monster, chasing me through the empty manor my family called their ancestral home. Even to the current day, its ugliness was seared to my mind in a way only magic could. A giant bear, made of shadows, bloody teeth with flesh still hanging on them and with eyes where eyes shouldn't be. It had eaten my family and now it was going to eat me.

I ran away and tried to hide, but no matter where I went or where I hid, the monster always found me. It finally cornered me in the basement of the manor, my back against the wall and the jaws of the beast mere inches away from my flesh.

Then I felt pressure in my chest and something inside of me _snapped_ , lighting everything on fire. The room, the monster, and me.

That night I woke up to the screams of the servants. My room — full of toys, children's books, and other flammable things — was on fire and I was to blame.

The servants and guards doused the fire, saving me, but nothing was ever the same afterwards. The servants were all jumpy around me, and the guards kept an even wider distance from me as if I was infected by some sort of dangerous disease.

But it was my family that reacted the worst to the news of my newfound magic.

I used to spend whole afternoons playing with my older brother, Marcus, and my younger sister, Evelyn. But after my magic was discovered I was forbidden from seeing them and confined to my new room, alone and with no toys. 

I cried. Cried for my mother and my father to come. I was alone and I was hungry and I wanted to get out. But no one came. My parents didn't even bother to come see me, to ask me if I was okay, to give me food. _Nothing._

They behaved as if I didn't exist, and before long, men in silver armor came for me. Templars. They dragged me outside, kicking and screaming. I was crying and I didn't want to leave. I wanted my mother and my siblings and all the warmth back.

But no one helped me and no one bothered to say goodbye to me.

It was a crushing thing, that loneliness, the despair. So many negative feelings in the tiny form of a five-year-old and for a mage that had severe consequences. Nights were restless and full of scary whispers till a young elven child — so thin and twitchy — grabbed my hand and told me everything was going to be okay. That he understood how it was to be alone. That was how I met Lesas and how we became friends.

But that feeling — that loneliness — was always there. It was there every missing letter, all the times they didn't show up and the times they did. It was an ever-present emotion that soaked the Circle and could be tasted at every second. 

The Circle was both a prison and a tomb of solitude and isolation. We would never leave its wall and we would die here, whether we wanted or not.

_'After all,'_ I thought, with no small amount of bitterness. _'You can get the mage out of the Circle, but you'll never get the Circle out of the mage'_

Such thought was so deeply ingrained in all of us, mages, that I wasn't even surprised when, instead of waking up in some sort of nightmarish landscape only possible thanks to the twisted thoughts of a demon, I woke up in the Tower again.

I stared at my surroundings and I immediately knew where I was. The Apprentice quarters, on Faxhold's first floor. The sight of the bunks, beds, and books scattered on the floor should've been familiar enough to relax me, but instead of that, all it accomplished was to unnerve me.

Everything seemed a bit...off, and the more I looked the more it seemed the room was unraveling before my eyes.

The beds started floating and a thin mist started to manifest in the room. Behind me, I heard the steps of someone and the faint laughter of children. 

I turned but I found nothing except an open door and a trail of mist that pointed out of the room and into the hallway. Almost like an invitation.

"Right," I mumbled. "Trust nothing that is shown to you. Only trust in yourself."

I took a hesitant step forward and left the room. 

'I _need to find that demon,'_ I thought, ignoring how outright insane it sounded. _'But how? They never specified that. Should I just walk around this facsimile of the Circle until it gets bored and comes for me?'_

No, that was a bad idea. Just sitting around in the Fade sounded like the perfect recipe for possession and I had no desire to be an abomination

_'I_ _have to survive,_ ' I thought frantically. _'I have to. I'm not dying to a Templar's blade or a soul-sucking demon. I have to live. For them. For her.'_

Arming myself with all the bravery I could muster I followed the trail of mist, fully aware I could be headed straight to a trap.

_'But of course,_ I thought. _'I want to find that demon, maybe going where it wants is the quickest choice to awakening.'_

There were other ways, of course. The Fade was a shapeless dream world, after all. I wasn't actually in the dream version of the Tower, but rather, I was in the Fade, which was currently _shaped_ like the Circle by the will of the master of this demesne. That had several implications. One, that this demon was powerful enough to _have_ a detailed demesne such as this one — which was bad for me. And two that the demon knew enough about Faxhold to make such a lifelike representation. For a demon, at least.

"Even the paintings are the same," I mumbled, as I followed the trail of mist. "That's a little creepy and–"

"Shut up," a tiny voice said at my side, freezing me. "You don't know anything about me or my family!"

I could recognize that voice anywhere. How couldn't I? It was me, as a child. 

I looked in the direction of the voice and saw, in one of the apprentice rooms with its door open, two little children arguing with each other.

"I-I know enough," little Lesas said, his voice broken and stubborn. "They left you here, just like me. Just like all of us! They don't love you. They never did!"

"Shut up!" little me yelled, sounding hurt and betrayed. "What do you know of family, huh? You're a street rat and an _elf._ What do you even know about family? You don't even have one!"

" Shut up! I-I do," Lesas said, lying through his teeth. He didn't have a family, not really. He was born on the alienage of Ostwick of a mother that died during childbirth and a father that he never met, and while he never explicitly said it, we all knew that the Circle was the only home he ever knew during his whole life, and we — his friends — were the closest thing he had for a family, sad and dysfunctional as it was. 

"No, you don't!" little me said, angry and mean. "You're a liar. You–you _knife-ear!"_

Even from here, I could see how little Lesas's face contorted in anger and betrayal. He always hated being called like that; all elves did. But Lesas never took it silently. He always had to fight back,even when the consequences for it were too severe for him to take.

"Don't say that!" the little elf said, tears in his eyes.

"What? Knife–ear?" little me said, a tone so innocent and fake that it was practically insulting.

"Shut up," Lesas hissed.

"Knife–ear, Knife–ear, Knife–ear, Knife–ear," I continued, my tone sing–song and hurtful.

"I said **shut up**!" Lesas screamed, sending the young me against the wall with a cry with a wave of uncontrolled telekinetic power.

"What's the meaning of this!" a masculine voice said. A templar. He approached both children — Lesas panicking and me crying — and the vision ended.

_'Maker,'_ I thought. _'I was really a little shit as a kid, uh.'_

I remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was visitation day— some families were allowed inside the Tower to visit their children and see them in person and I, like the hopeful and foolish little kid I used to be, had hoped that my family would come to see me.

They hadn't, and that was the first of many disappointments.

**"** I see you've done your research," I speak to the thin air. "But if you think that's going to upset me then you don't know me, monster."

I had to finish this quickly.

I walked through the hallways of the first floor, ignoring all the doors of the Apprentice Quarters. Once I reached the door to the main reception, I crossed the door's threshold and—.  
  


**⊙**

_Ser Brandon was among the most faithful; everyone knew that. He was chivalrous, brave, and a wholehearted believer in the Chant._

_And that meant his hand wouldn't falter while he held the lash._

_I was deprived of my robe and made to kneel. This was to be my punishment for my misuse of the powers that the Maker has granted me. Or at least that's what they told me._

_It wasn't on purpose. It wasn't but… I had told the Instructor that I could handle it, that I didn't need help with the Summoning Sciences, that I successfully managed to complete the third configuration without help but-but…_

_Only one step amiss was needed to ruin a summoning circle written in chalk, and when the bindings were ruined then the creature contained was free to run amok, and entities from the Fade were rarely friendly._

_The ensuing fight ended with a Knight– Lieutenant dead, a few mages injured, and the Statue of Enchantress Leonora — she who mastered the healing sciences and helped the legalization of Spirit Healers — completely destroyed. That statue was older than half of the Circle and had come from Orzammar itself._

_"There must be punishment for this," Draden had said. At first isolation for a whole month was discussed but Lydia put her staff down. What had happened had been an accident. A tragic one, yes, but an accident either way._

_More negotiation ensued and in the end, an accord was reached. Thirty lashes, one for each day in isolation, and with the hope that this would be enough to teach some discipline._

_Everyone seemed to be okay with this but me._

_"I understand your fear, child," First Enchanter Lydia said. "But this is necessary. I understand your fear but there is no better choice. Look into my eyes and find the strength within you to pass through this. I know you will."_

_I just nodded, a million pleas in my mouth, but I was smart enough to know that they would be for naught. My fate had already been decided._

_"Look into my eyes, child," my mo– Lydia repeated. "And keep looking."_

_"Ser Brandon," Draden said, "to my count, if you will."_

_The knight just nodded and prepared his whips._

_"One," the knight Commander said and the whip hit my back._

_I screamed at the searing pain. I couldn't help it. My whole back was on fire and I wanted it to stop._

_But I did as Lydia said. I looked into her eyes and she looked back, and somehow, that made it better._

_"Two," Draden said, toneless, and the whip fell one more time._

_I screamed but my eyes didn't waver._

  
  


**⊙**

I fell to the floor, gasping.

That- that wasn't any sort of illusion magic. Or at least one I recognized. That was...powerful and invasive and how the hell did the demon manage to do that!?

The Fade resonated with our actions, true, and demons could see our desires and the reasons underlying them, but to make me relive the events of that day and in such a way I _felt_ I was there again…

What kind of monster had they sent to kill me!?

"Maker's breath," I gasped. "You don't do things by halves, do you, creature?"

I received no answer besides the mocking silence.

I tried to get up off the floor but my hands were shaking and my back still felt on fire. But I had to get up.

_'In the Fade, my true form is the one I'm most attached to,_ ' I thought. _'I've read books of mages that managed to change their shapes to suit their respective needs. Maybe I could–'_

But no. It was possible, but I would risk forgetting my true form, and the demon could see this as a challenge to its domain and the way it shaped the Fade. 

Once I finally managed to get out of the floors I gingerly made my way to the stairs to the second floor. However, it seemed that my surprises weren't over yet.

Ethereal wisps of the Fade floated around me and I tensed. They were literal wisps of power and energy that demons left behind once they were defeated. In their lonesome, they were barely a nuisance, easy to destroy. But at the hands of a skilled mage or a demon…

The wisps flew by, closer to me, and they coalesced on the floor, taking new shapes and multiplying. 

I screamed at the end result, taking several steps back and shuddering at the horrifying vision before my eyes.

Spiders. Giant, horrifying, eight-legged, and man-eating _giant spiders,_ with their disgusting mouths salivating poison and their empty black eyes revealing their lack of souls.

They approached with their particular skittering and I screamed once again, sending a wave of fire at them that some managed to dodge, a sign of intellect that made it clear that these weren't common spiders. 

_'Remember your training_ ,' Lydia's voice resounded inside of my head. _'The more aggressive your response, the more they reflect back at you. Be disciplined.'_

Right. I could fight back but I had to be careful. Wanton use of magic would leave me bereft of mana before I reached my jailor. I had to be careful.

As the beasts approached, I narrowed my eyes and prepared my spells, and as they skittered around me, with their empty gazes still on me, I gave my answer in the form of fire and lighting.

I raced across the steps of the third floor, my breath stuttering and my willpower fraying. The demons posing as Templars followed me, screaming insults and jeers at me. 

I sent another fireball after them and one of them blocked it with a shield, the metal heating and making the knight curse but not retreat.

None of them tried to interrupt my spell casting. None of them could — they weren't real, they were demons, but it was enough.

It was enough, with the helmets and the reddened blades and the corpses of my friends.

So I ran, I ran because fire and lighting weren't enough and I was getting tired.

I ran because this wasn't a test. It was nightmare 

I ran to the stairs to the Third Floor – the demons not far behind me and —

**⊙**

  
  


_I watched impotently as Anne hugged a crying Kendra in silence, Lesas beside me._

_I didn't know what to say. No one did, so we just kept silent and offered the only thing we had for now. Comfort and love without judgments._

_Because this wasn't the first time it had happened to someone they knew and they were aware it wouldn't be the last._

_And it always started the same. With the clash of mana and lyrium and the pain and blackness it followed. And then...they had their way._

_I could talk to Lydia and do something but...it wouldn't be enough. It never was. The Commander didn't care and the Chantry was ready to offer excuses every time it happened._

_"Tell anyone and I'll brand you, and Tranquils never say no."_

**⊙**

  
  


The memories flooded back. 

It was clearly a game that the demon liked to play. It apparently enjoyed my remembrances, and it liked to share that joy with me.

From the third floor onwards it all got worse.

I was chased by wolves of shadow and demons of rage, their fiery bodies burning everything on their way and making me scream every time they managed to touch me.

More Templars came – their blades red with the blood of mages — and even when I managed to kill them or avoid them, they didn't relent. The corpses of the mages rose and assaulted me – with both hands and spells alike.

It never ended. From the stairs of the third floor to the fourth, I dreamt again.

I was twelve and my father looked at me. The scene and his looks are meaningless because only his words matter and those are the ones that keep echoing at every ghostly step I take in this facsimile of my home and prison.

_"You're the biggest disappointment of my life,"_ he said and somehow that managed to affect me more than all the horrors I'd seen. It sunk deep into me and chased me through the whole way, following me and making me feel even weaker than I was. That I am.

I moved through doors that kept shifting and somehow I was in front of Rosalie, her beautiful azure eyes looking at me with sorrow.

" _Please, Rose. I know I screwed up but–"_

_"But nothing, Max. I-I can't do this anymore. It shouldn't even have lasted so long but I- I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."_

_"Please," I begged. Maker, I was so pathetic. But she couldn't leave me. She was the only good thing about me and without her, what was left?_

_"I can't, Max," she said, voice resolute. "There's- there's something wrong with you. I just– I need some space, okay?"_

_Then she left and I cried her name._

I ran away, the doors and floors shifting. The demon! I had to kill the demon! If I didn't I would —.

**⊙**

" _Focus on the spell, Maxwell," First Enchanter Lydia said. "The Primal School is one with great potential for destruction and overflow –for such reasons it will require more focus and discipline than usual. However, I'm confident you'll succeed._

_I nodded, nervously looking at the candle. This was an exercise of control, not of power — which Lydia had noted I had a lot of, for someone so young as me —_ _but control had always been hard for me._

_It was so easy to simply...let go and let the power flow, but the First Enchanter had always remarked that discipline was the thing that differentiated true mages from bumbling practitioners, so I had to try._

_"Focus on the candle and the power within you, Maxwell. Fire is a volatile element, but if one is calm and properly focused, then dominion over its primal energies can be easily achieved. I know you can. You have the potential for it."_

_I looked at the candle and tried to focus. The power came easy and wild but I immediately tried to tamp it down._

_'No,' I thought. 'It's too much. I only need to light the candle, not the whole office.'_

_I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. I had to. I couldn't let the First Enchanter down. She had taken me in and accepted me as her apprentice when I had so little to offer and she had been nothing but patient and kind to me – if a little strict during training._

_I had to focus on the flame. It was an unstable element and the one I’d always been less successful in taming. It was hard because why would I tame an element that just wanted to be free? It was so easy to let go and let it flow but – it couldn't be free. Discipline and control. That was what mattered._

_I focused on the candle and I took hold of the primal energies of the Fade and then – trying the hardest I ever did in my entire life — I cast the spell, taking great care of only lighting the tip of the candle instead of the whole thing._

_"Fantastic work, Maxwell," Lydia said, a proud smile on her face that made me feel warm and content inside._

_"I'm sure your family will be proud of your progress," she continued, making the warmth inside of me putter out and die without even realizing it._

_'My family,' I thought. 'Who didn't even bother to visit or answer my letters.'_

_The flame increased in size but I didn't care._

_'My siblings, two strangers wearing familiar faces. With one even joining the Templars.'_

_The flame kept increasing, and by now Lydia was noticing, but I still didn't care._

_'And my father, who only had unkind words to me.'_

_And, in that moment, the office of the First Enchanter disappeared and was replaced by the luxurious rooms for visitation and important dignitaries that sought the help of the Circle._

_I was at a table, staring nervously at the man in front of me. Bann Frederick Trevelyan, my father. He was a severe man, with a rough face that never smiled much and a receding hairline that made him look older than he probably was._

_This was the first time he had come to see me in eight years and it was an understatement to say I was nervous._

_A lot of that conversation lay forgotten now, not because it was unimportant but because a few words that he said struck me deeper than any Templar's sword ever would._

_"You're a disappointment to our family," he said, with the same tone as one would while talking about frivolous things like the weather or tonight's tea. "You're the greatest shame of our family – a weak little boy with_ **_magic_ ** _of all things_."

_"Father, I–" I tried to say. Because this couldn't be it, right? This man was my father, my progenitor, he – he couldn't be saying such things and be serious, right?_

_"Be quiet, boy," his Father snapped, then he took a deep breath. "My only hope is that you'll be able to redeem yourself in service to the Chantry and that, eventually, your existence shall be forgotten amongst those of higher breed."_

_I lowered my eyes, because what else could I do?_

_"Don't contact me ever again. Or your mother," father continued, ignoring – or relishing – in the pain he was causing me. "It is not proper for a mere mage to directly address the head of a noble family_ , _as ancient as mine."_

_Then he rose and left without saying goodbye._

_Then I was back at the office where the flame had burst and everything was on fire. I tried to quell the flame but it was too strong and I just wasn't sure strong enough and–_

_Frost bloomed everywhere and I breathed out in relief. I looked at my master, and crushing disappointment took over me as I studied her tried expression._

_"First Enchanter, I'm sorry, I just couldn't..." I trailed off and I failed to give a proper explanation for my behavior. All the excuses I had were inadequate and I couldn't lie to the woman that had helped me so much._

_Lydia breathed as well, and looked at her ruined office with resignation. "I guess I'll need to replace the curtains for the second time this month."_

_"I could help," I said tentatively, mostly because I had no idea in what way a failure like me could help one of the most powerful and talented mages this Circle had ever trained._

_"It's okay, Maxwell. Training is over for today. Return tomorrow."_

_I lowered my head, ashamed, and left her office in silence._

**⊙**

  
  


I ran, but stumbled when I slipped in something. Ice. The floor was covered in ice.

What?

A figure showed up, floating and small but sending waves of power at me. 

A Despair Demon. Was it to blame for all that had happened? Was it to blame for such horrible memories of my past?

Was it the demon I had to kill?

I threw fire at the creature and it wailed as it burned, but it wasn't enough. A fist made of pure ice struck me and it hurt so much I couldn’t breathe for a moment.

I rose to my feet and sent another fireball at the demon but it dodged, and then it started to talk. 

"Failure. Disappointment," it said. "Nobody loves you and you'll die alone. Your friends, your lover, your family. You'll die and you'll disappear like all the apprentices before you."

"Shut up!" I yelled, fully aware that the best way to deal with a Despair demon was to ignore it.

It eventually burned to death and I just wanted to done with this.

Where the fuck was that demon?

The Despair demon had said soul cutting things but...it didn't feel powerful enough. It burned too easily.

I hear a child laugh behind me and I turn. The trail of mist had reformed itself and now was pointing to a door I was pretty sure wasn't there a few minutes ago.

_'Maker,'_ I thought. _'Let this be it. Let this be the end of this horrible nightmare.'_

I opened the door and I froze. 

There was nothing on the other side. Just an empty void.

"There's no way I'll go there," I said to the empty air. "You can go fuck yourself if you think I'm actually going to do what you want you fucking–."

"Fine by me," someone said behind me and before I could comprehend what was happening, I found myself falling into the void.

I screamed at the nothingness.

A gentle voice woke me up. It was lovely and kind.

"Max, sweetie. It's time to wake up."

I opened my eyes groggily and stared at my mother.

"Mother?" I said, confused. It felt...odd to say it. Like the word hadn't been said in a long, long time but– 

No, that was a stupid thought. She was my _mother_ after all. It was a little odd she was the one to wake me up instead of the servants, but that could be excused. Mother liked doing that from time to time.

But even still... something felt wrong and out of place. Was I supposed to be here, in my room? Wait, was this my room?

Where was I?

I blinked my eyes, trying to see, trying to clear my head and push that feeling of _wrongwrongwrong_ that kept shouting in my head, but my mother interrupted and her sweet voice cleared everything.

"Maxwell, are you alright?" she said, worriedly and softly touching her lips to my forehead. The contact felt nice, fulfilling a craving I didn't know I had until now.

"Do you wish for me to call the physician?" she continued, her soft hazel eyes boring into me — filled with love and acceptance.

It should have felt nice — my mother loved me after all — but why did it still feel so wrong?

What was wrong with me?

"I– no. I'm fine, mother," I answered, trying to push back all of those feelings.

"Good," she said. "Then it's time to get up and start the day, then. Your father awaits you in the courtyard."

"Father?" I asked. "Why would he want to see me?"

"It's time for your training, remember?

"Training?"

"Yes, my child. Your sword training. You're the heir, after all, and a proper lord not only needs to lead but also fight alongside his subjects."

'I'm the heir," I repeated, numbly. Even though I knew I was the heir — wait, I did? — and I had been for a long time.

My older brother, Marcus, had gotten entangled with a peasant _man_ and had made clear his desire to marry him. My Father denounced him for such insult to our august family name and my sister…

"Is Evelyn here, Mother?" I asked. I hadn't seen my little sister in years. Wait. No, not years. I had seen her...a week ago? No, a few days?

Maker, my head hurt.

"Oh, she arrived last night from Antiva, while you were sleeping. She's missed you _so_ much and is eager to see you."

"Antiva?" I said. Wasn't she supposed to be in Starkhaven, training to be a Templar…

_'Wait, no. My sister, a Templar?”_ I thought with incredulity. “Maker _, now that's a ridiculous idea. She's an artist, for Andraste's sake. She doesn't even know what part of a sword is the pointy one, less how to use it to stab at someone._ '

I knew that. Everyone knew that. I remembered clearly that lazy summer afternoon where my sister announced her desire to go to Antiva to study art but...why did it still feel so wrong. Why was my head hurting so much?

I groaned as I felt how the pain split my head. 

"Maxwell," my mother screamed, rushing to me. "What 's wrong!? I-I'll call the healer and your father. He'd be worried sick of you"

_'My father,'_ I thought.

(" _Don't contact me or your mother ever again_.")

'And my mother.'

( _She didn't come. She never did.)_

I looked at the woman in front of me...her expression so worried – so fake with her lovely voice, with her unbelievable words. 

I had never touched a sword in my life. My father didn't love me. I hadn't heard from my mother in ten years.

I was a mage and this was the Fade.

The pounding pain of my head quickly retreated after that realization, as the illusion peeled away to reveal the world of dreams I was in. 

My room — or what I thought to be my room — quickly changed to the Harrowing chambers.

"Max?" the creature wearing my mother asked. "Is everything alright?"

I sent a telekinetic wave at it and the demon flew back, landing poorly a few feet away from me.

"Stay away from me!" I shouted, my voice raw and tired. I just wanted to go home. I just wanted this to end already.

"Mmmm, that was delicious," the creature said, standing up and looking at me with pure desire in its eyes. It looked unnatural on my mother's eyes."The Hunger, the Pain, the Love and the Desires. Maybe too many Desires. Too little Pride to work with."

I snarled. "Those were my memories you filthy… abomination! You had no right to use to amuse yourself."

The demon chuckled. "Such Rage. It's beautiful, but not yet complete. Come, there's no need for this when we both know the outcome of this encounter. Let's talk like civilized people and reach an arrangement."

"Only the weak and stupid accept deals from demons," I said, quoting the First Enchanter.

"Ahhhh, there it is. The Pride – the Hubris, delicious. I'm going to feast today."

"Fuck that," I said. I tried to stand up but my muscles weren't responding. The demon had paralyzed me. 

"Ah, don't worry, my child. You'll soon feel alright. Soon you'll feel _nothing,_ and just for you... I'll make the dream double layered this time. So you'll never wake up."

I tried to channel my power. The strength of this paralyzing spell was beyond everything I've seen and experienced at the Circle but if I managed to dispel it in time, perhaps I had a chance.

But, before I even managed to get a hold of even a wisp of power, the demon smiled and everything turned dark.

⊙

  
  


"Today is a day of celebration," the First Enchanter said, her tone joyous. "We have defeated the Templars of this Tower — though not without a great cost — and proclaimed our freedom to the world! Soon we will join our brothers and sisters, and fight for the recognition of our rights!”

We all cheered. Yes, I remembered now. Draden tried to invoke the Right of Annulment on the Circle, but we fought him off. 

"Let us all give thanks to the man who warned us of this, and whose plan led us to victory. My apprentice, Maxwell Trevelyan!" Lydia continued.

Right, my plan. I had found out about Draden's plan to kill us all — though the details were foggy about how exactly I did that — and warned everyone about it and… they believed me? Yes, they did that.

So we attacked before they even knew what was happening and defeated them all. Some of us died, but the price was worth it. We were _free_ and now we were ready to fight to keep that freedom. 

"Come here, my child. So everyone may congratulate you for your success."

I did, feeling elated all the way. We — no, I — did it, and now a revolution had come to the Chantry.

(And to everyone that had failed to recognize my worth, my talents. My _power_. )

"You did it, Max!" Lesas said, while I walked to the podium. 

"My hero," Kendra said, sultrily.

"I'm so happy for you!" Anne said. 

"Come here, my precious child," Lydia said. "You have made me proud today. You have made us all proud."

Everyone cheered. The applause, the laughter, the happiness. It was intoxicating.

"Thank you, First Enchanter. For everything. Without your lessons I–I wouldn't have made it."

"Oh, Max." Lydia's face softened in a way she so rarely showed. "I never said this to you but – I love you like you were my own child. Right now this is not about me, it’s about you...and someone else."

"Max," a soft voice said. I turned and found Rose, beautiful as always, smiling at me. "I'm so happy for you, and for all of us."

"Rosalie," I said. Was she more beautiful today?

"Max," she continued. "I'm so sorry for even saying those words to you. I didn't mean them. You're the bravest, smartest, and most handsome man I've ever met. Can you find in your heart the chance to forgive a foolish woman like me?"

"I– of course," I answered her. "I've always forgiven you. I love you."

Her smile was heartwarming. "Then we can get back together. This time forever. You just need to… let me in."

"Let you in," I repeated. For some reasons, the words felt odd on my tongue. Like a warning – but that was stupid. This was Rosalie, for Maker's sake.

"Yes, let me in, Max," she continued, her tone feverish and a hungry glint in her eyes. "Together we can defeat them all. The Templars, the mages, the nobles. We can be unstoppable if we work together."

"That sounds–" Horrifying, I tried to say. "Beautiful," 

"I know, Max. I love you. Please let me in."

"I-" I wanted to say that she was acting weird. That I wanted to go to my quarters, but my voice wouldn’t work. I couldn't speak. I couldn't say what I wanted to say.

"Please," Rosalie continued. "I want to be together with you forever. You inside of me and me inside of you. Forever."

I opened my mouth, but then there was a flash, and the whole room shook as a vision of red crystals and an ever-changing landscape invaded my eyes. I heard footsteps.

"I think that's enough," a strong female voice said. 

Then an intense heat hit me and I Fade-Stepped back, but Rosalie wasn't as fast. She screamed, loud and shrill, causing the whole room to shake and then–

The illusion broke. 

I stumbled back and a soft hand stopped me. I turned and my first impression was…

'Beautiful,' I thought. She had to be a spirit. Nobody looked like that in real life.

She had flawless pale skin, with vibrant green eyes and long golden hair worn in a thick braid. Her armor was of a like I'd never seen, golden and sky blue, with a short skirt edged with golden chains. She was wearing a headset that pressed to her cheekbones and forehead in a very complementary way.

But the most eye-catching thing was the wings. Beautiful, luminous wings that marked her as one of the Maker's first children.

"Are you a spirit?" I blurted, because I was an idiot with inappropriate timing.

The woman smiled. "I'm Valkyrie, and I'm here to help you."

Before I could think of a reply, a chuckle interrupted us both. 

I turned and saw Ros – the demon.

It was a sorry sight. Whatever spell Valkyrie had used on it had all but _destroyed_ the creature. 

Rosalie's golden locks were almost burned and her whole body was more charred skinless flesh than human.

"You, intruder," it spoke with a barely understandable gurgle. "How dare you. The mage is mine!"

"He belongs only to himself," Valkyrie said. "I won't let you take him, monster."

"Ohhh," the demon crooned. "Such Pride. Such Hubris. I'm going to enjoy eating you."

Then light enveloped its form. Rosalie's body disappeared and was replaced with the twisted horror that was the malignant spirit’s true form.

It was a hulking beast that dwarfed us both. Its body was muscled and covered in twisted black spikes that oozed malignant power, with its head a mess of horns that shadowed a eyeless face and fanged mouth that resembled one of a dragon twisted by a nightmare.

A Pride Demon, one of the most dangerous creatures that the Fade had to offer. That was the monster I had been sent to fight. That was the creature I had someone overcome on this pointless and cruel quest. 

Maker help us.

"I'm going to devour you whole!" It charged at us, crackling in lighting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! So sorry for the wait, my life is a little...hectic right now.
> 
> Also, I realize I never said this but I don't own any rights for either Dragon Age or the Parahumans series.


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